12. Marco
Chapter Twelve
MARCO
Less than twenty-four hours after making the call to Liam, asking him to look into Ben's relationship with Cillian, I receive the confirmation I’ve been waiting for.
Liam managed to drag the information out of one of Cillian’s men, which I’m sure will come back to bite me on the ass. But right now, all that matters it that he backed up Ben’s story, piece by fucking piece.
All of it was true. The trafficking, the auctions, the underage girls…
Cillian is even more of a twisted fuck than I thought, which means I need to find a way out of this deal before I get caught up in his sadistic web.
As much as I hate to admit it, Ben Peterson might be the answer I’m looking for.
If he has been a mole for Cillian, he likely has more information that can help me take him down. But he’s not going to give it up easily, which means I might not have any other choice but to bring Clara into the equation.
I find Clara in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch with Zoe sprawled on her lap, her tiny hands gripping onto Clara’s fingers.
She looks so happy that for a second, I hesitate in the doorway.
She wanted Ben out of her life for a reason, and now I’m the one who is forcing him back into it.
Clara looks up as if she senses my eyes on her, and a soft smile tugs at her lips. "Hey, you’re back early.”
I nod, tucking my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the guilt that is weighing heavily on my chest. "Something has come up I need to talk to you about."
Zoe turns at the sound of my voice and lets out a cry as she starts trying to reach for me.
Normally, seeing my daughter would have lifted my mood, but I’m not just dragging Clara into this mess, I’m dragging Zoe into it too.
I just wish I could think of another way to deal with Cillian that doesn’t involve Ben.
Clara’s smile fades slightly as I cross the room and take Zoe from her. “What’s going on?”
I sit beside her on the couch, balancing Zoe on my lap as I try to think of a way to ask Clara to speak with Ben without coming across like a selfish prick. "Ben is telling the truth, at least the stuff about Cillian."
I told her about my “talk” with her brother and his intentions, but I also told her I’d check him out first, so she knew this was a possibility, even if we both wish it wasn’t.
Her entire body goes still, so I reach out to place my hand on her knee, squeezing it once.
"I still don’t trust him. But I trust my sources, and they’re backing up his claims. So…I’m leaving it up to you."
Clara’s brows furrow. "Leaving what up to me?"
"If you want to hear him out or not.”
She exhales slowly as she looks at Zoe. She brushes a thumb gently over her cheek, lost to her own thoughts for a moment. When Clara eventually looks back at me, her eyes are filled with a silent determination.
"If there’s even a chance he knows something important, then I’ll listen. But I don’t owe him anything, Marco. He stopped being my family a long time ago."
I nod, feeling a sense of relief at her words. “I hope you know I don’t take your help for granted, and that you can always change your mind.”
“I know.” She offers me a smile.
I lean in to press a quick kiss to her lips.
I really need to get going if I’m going to make my meeting in the city, but then I catch sight of my laptop on the coffee table, and a thought crosses my mind.
"Have you applied for fashion school yet?" I bounce Zoe on my knee.
Clara rolls her eyes. “Marco, I only made the decision yesterday . Besides, applications for this semester are already closed, so I’ll have to wait to apply until next term.”
I can tell she’s trying to sound nonchalant, like it doesn’t bother her, but I know her too well by now.
I lean into her so I can brush a kiss against her temple. "We’ll see about that.”
She laughs. "What does that mean?"
I smirk. "It means I have a meeting to get to. But I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
I hand Zoe back to her.
The moment I’m out the door and heading across the drive toward my car, I decide to make a call to an old friend who might be able to help with Clara’s application to fashion school.
It rings twice before my old friend, Max, picks up. "Marco. it’s been a while. How’s things?"
"Not as good as with you, I’m sure.”
He laughs. “You got that right. Now, what can I do for you?”
I open the car door and slide into the driver's seat. “I need to ask a favor.”
There’s a pause, followed by a deep rumbling chuckle. “What kind of favor?"
"Your wife, is she still on the board for the New York Institute of Fashion?"
"She is." Max’s voice is laced with curiosity. "Why?"
I glance in my side mirror, watching the house grow smaller as I drive away, thinking of the sad look in Clara’s eye when she talked about being too late to apply.
"I know someone who wants to apply, but she missed the deadline for this semester.”
Max whistles, and I tighten my hands on the steering wheel.
"That’s some tough luck. The school is packed."
"I don’t need luck. I need an interview.”
"So, you don’t want me to just get her in?" His voice pitches up as if he can’t really believe what he is hearing.
"No. She wouldn’t want that. She’d want to earn her spot."
"You’re soft for this girl.” His amusement is loud and clear.
When I don’t answer, he chuckles under his breath. "All right. I’ll see what I can do."
Liam is already waiting for me when I arrive at Nox, seated in one of the back booths with a thick manila folder in front of him.
I take the seat across from him, and without a word, he slides the folder toward me.
“Is this the rest of the information on Ben?”
Liam shakes his head.
I frown as I glance down at the file.
When he called again asking to meet in person, I figured it was because there was more information that he didn’t want to risk saying over the phone. But it turns out I was wrong.
This is about Clara.
“This is everything you wanted to know.” He leans back, eyeing me carefully.
I let my fingers hover over the folder, hesitating.
I requested this background check on Clara before we settled things between us. At the time, I needed to know if she was hiding something, but now it feels like an invasion of privacy.
Liam doesn’t say anything as I flip the folder open.
The first few pages contain all the basic information on Clara, including her birth certificate, school records, and any hospital visits. This is nothing I don’t already know.
I glance further down the report, scanning her financial history and past addresses. Again, nothing stands out to me, nothing that ties her to organized crime or to Tommaso Conti.
A drink is set down in front of me as I reach the section labeled Known Associates .
Ben Peterson.
I exhale slowly, my jaw tightening as I stare at his name, printed right there in black and white.
I know for a fact that Clara cut him off, but seeing his name next to hers when he’s been linked to both Cillian and Tommaso? It stirs something deep in my gut.
I could keep digging deeper into Clara’s past and find out every last detail about her life before me. But my chest tightens, and I find myself hesitating.
What am I doing?
I told Clara that I trusted her and if I really believe that, then I don’t need to go searching through her past like she’s some kind of suspect.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I snap the folder shut and slide it back across the table.
Liam raises an eyebrow at me as he looks at the folder. “Not what you were expecting?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got what I need.”
I get to my feet and reach into the inside pocket of my jacket for the envelope of cash. I toss it on the table beside Clara’s folder and my untouched drink.
“Some things are better left in the past.”
I’m eager to get back to Clara after my day of back-to-back meetings.
A year ago, I would have thought nothing of coming home to an empty bed, but now I can’t think of anything worse.
It’s just past seven by the time I get home, yet when I walk through the front door, I immediately pause.
It’s unnaturally quiet, which instantly has my heart rate spiking.
"Clara?” My voice echoes around the foyer.
“In the kitchen!”
I breathe.
I shut the door behind me and head into the kitchen to find it empty except for her.
“Where is everyone?”
Clara glances up from setting the table, a small smirk playing on her lips as she looks at me.
"Rosa is upstairs with the girls, and Andre took Lila out for dinner, so…"
“So…” My lips twitch as my mind starts to fill with filthy thoughts.
Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, and I imagine wrapping it around my hand and tugging hard, exposing the beautiful column of her neck…
"it’s just us.” Her green eyes glaze as if she can read my thoughts.
I cross over to her and wrap an arm around her waist. "Oh, yeah?” I bury my face in her neck. “Then we’d better make the most of it.” I kiss the delicate skin beneath her ear in a way I know drives her wild.
She gasps, her hands moving to my chest to keep herself steady as I continue to kiss her neck. “I made you dinner.”
“I hope it’s you covered in whipped cream.” I press my hardening cock against her stomach.
She squeals. “Your sister is upstairs.”
“She can’t hear us.” I grind against her.
“You are so bad.” She laughs as she tries her best to wiggle out of my hold, but that only makes my cock harder. “I spent hours making you pasta from scratch.”
I stop and really look at her. “You did?”
“Yes, I did, so forgive me if I want to eat before it gets cold.” She bats at my chest.
I grin before leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You spoil me, Clara Peterson.” I let her go and take a seat at the table. “Are you trying to woo me?”
I take in the lit candles and the bottle of wine.
She dishes up the food. “Is it working?”
“Hell, yeah.” I laugh. “Turns out I’m incredibly easy.”
As Clara sets down a plate of steaming tomato pasta in front of me, I take the opportunity to brush my hand over her lower back.
“This looks incredible, love.” I watch with delight as a pink blush appears on her cheeks.
She moves to set down her own plate before taking a seat across from me. “You haven’t tasted it yet.”
I pick up my fork and stab a few pieces of the pasta.
Clara watches me closely as I take a bite and let out a satisfied groan.
"Damn. This is good. ” I load up my fork again. "You’ve been holding out on me."
Clara shakes her head as she reaches for the wine. “Don’t get too excited, it’s one of the only dishes I can make."
“Then it’s a good job I would happily eat it for the rest of my life.” I snatch the bottle out of her reach.
She laughs, shaking her head. "My lack of skills isn’t intentional. It’s not like my mom was around to teach me how to cook.”
I pour her a glass of red, and I meet her gaze, catching the flicker of sadness behind her eyes. "It must’ve been hard, losing her so young.” I pour some wine for myself.
Clara nods, pushing the pasta around her plate. "It was, but I think it’s even harder now that I have Zoe. There are so many times I’ve wanted to call her for advice, to ask her things about Zoe, but…I can’t."
Her voice cracks a little, so I reach across the table to take her hand, entwining my fingers with hers.
"You’re not alone anymore." I stroke my thumb over her knuckles. "You know that, right?"
She squeezes my hand back as she offers me a small smile. "You’ve made that clear.”
"Good. I hope I’ve also made it clear how much I love you."
She bites down on her lower lip as she nods her head. "Very.”
"And that I would do anything for you?"
Clara tilts her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she looks at me. "Anything?"
I narrow my eyes, already sensing where this is going.
I don’t give Clara time to react before I push my chair back and walk around the table to scoop her up into my arms.
"Marco! The food?—”
“I’m carrying my food right now.” I carry her out of the kitchen.
“Oh, my god, you’re ridiculous!”
“Shh, my sister is upstairs. I’m going to need you to be quiet, love, which might be hard when I’m about to feast on your pussy.”
She smacks my shoulder, but I don’t miss the way her breath catches at my words.
I grin as I take the stairs two at a time, already thinking about all the ways I’m going to show her how far I’m willing to go to make her happy.