16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Nellie
M y brakes squeaking as I pulled up in front of the hotel drew blatant stares from people in formal wear climbing out of cars that cost at least twice as much as I made in a year, and when they saw me get out of my old car in less than a gown, their stares widened. I wished I could shrink away from the inevitable judgment.
“Good. You made it,” Ronan said, offering me a hand.
“You hired me.” I opened the trunk, revealing tubs with dozens of cupcakes stacked on top of each other. “Of course I came. Ava should be right behind me with the rest of it.”
Ronan chuckled, staring at the trunk full of desserts like he was surprised. What did he think 300 cupcakes was going to look like? “Let me help you carry these in.” Without waiting for me to agree, he grabbed a stack of tubs.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing my own armful and following behind him into the hotel. The stares grew louder the closer we got to the front door, and I became increasingly aware of the modest, plain black dress I wore. It lacked the glitter and awe the gowns we walked past so clearly displayed.
I held my head higher when we turned into the well-decorated ballroom. You’re here to work, Nellie. “We’ve got you set up over here,” Ronan said, leading me towards a long, empty table. He sat the tubs down, brushing his hands together before he gently tucked them in his pockets.
I nodded curtly. “Thanks for helping,” I said, turning on my heel to go back for the next load.
“I’ve been trying to tell you I’ll help you.” He smirked, slightly cocking his head to the side like he was proud. I scoffed, earning a loud laugh from Ronan before he followed behind me back through the thick stares that didn’t seem to faze him. Why would they? “So how are you doing?” he asked when he grabbed another armful of containers.
“Oh, you mean since someone threw a brick through my window less than a week ago?” I asked, hoisting one of the remaining towers of sweets. I let them settle in my arms before I half-shrugged. “I’m doing okay.”
Ronan side-eyed me, narrowing his eyes slightly before he relaxed, but where there was amusement a moment before was now a cold shield. “I asked a friend of mine to keep an eye on the bakery for you,” he said, his tone matching the sudden drop.
I gaped at him, frozen in place when he took off toward the door with his arms full. “Ronan.” I hurried to catch up to him while keeping even steps so no cupcakes fell over and I didn’t trip. “I told you I don’t need help.”
“It’s for my peace of mind.” He stopped suddenly in front of the door, and I almost ran into him.
I stepped past him into the building, still looking over my shoulder like I was no longer worried I might trip over thin air and drop cupcakes all over the marble floors. “What does that mean?” I asked when he grunted and followed behind me.
“I just don’t like it,” he said, setting the stack down on the table next to the others. When he turned to face me, his stare was intense. I almost missed the table setting my own stack down when I didn’t look away from him. “It puts you in a vulnerable place, and the cops didn’t seem like they knew anything.”
“I mean, it sure seemed like they knew you,” I mumbled under my breath.
Ronan exhaled heavily and very slowly, and my stomach sank. “I’ve met Detective Stanton a few times.” He didn’t expand on it, but my curiosity piqued. I stopped caring so much about the cupcakes that might pay for me to keep my bakery.
“Why?” I leaned forward, not caring who was around us but lowering my voice anyways. “Are you an undercover cop or some sort of private investigator or something? Maybe you’re a suspect.” A roar of laughter burst from my chest when he lifted both brows, clearly amused by my brainstorming.
“Something like that,” he said.
“Something like what?” Ava asked, rushing up behind me short of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she added when I spun around to face her.
“Nothing,” Ronan answered, and I whipped back around to face him. “I should let you ladies get set up. I’m going to go check on a couple things. Let me know if you need anything.”
I watched him walk away, noting the way he fixed both sleeves and adjusted his jacket on his shoulders. The picture from the book in my bedroom flashed across my mind, and I thought about the Ronan who had his arm around my brother versus the one who just walked away like he owned half of Boston.
“What in the world did I miss?” Ava asked, pulling me from my memory-induced haze.
I shrugged, moving quickly to start organizing cupcakes on the table. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I just got here.”
Ava tilted her head, looking between me and the direction Ronan had disappeared. “Don’t give me that. The two of you looked like you were either about to fight or something when I walked up.”
“It was nothing,” I said, gathering the empty-for-now containers. I could feel my best friend’s stare drilling through me while I moved, and I sighed. “He told me he asked one of his friends to keep an eye on the bakery.” I rolled my eyes.
“What, like a cop?” Ava seemed as confused as I was, and I thought again about his exchange with Detective Stanton. Something like that.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ll deal with it later,” I added quickly when I saw Ronan coming back.
He wasn’t alone. Ronan crossed the ballroom with an older, elegant woman floating next to him. Her brunette hair sat perfectly styled on top of her head, and she wore a floor-length, cream-colored gown that made her look almost angelic. “Nellie,” Ronan said, approaching us. “This is my mother, Isabella.”
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said, half-curtseying before I stopped myself. Did I really try to curtsey like she was royalty? What the hell was I doing? “Congratulations. It’s a lovely party.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. Every curl stayed perfectly in place when she did. “Please, call me Isabella.” Her eyes dropped with sympathy, and my stomach filled with concrete. “I haven’t seen you since you were so young. Not since…” She paused the same way everyone did when they didn’t know what to say to someone who had experienced a sudden loss—let alone three. “I’m so sorry for everything you went through.”
I cringed. “Thank you, really.” It was my normal response, since it was nicer than telling someone I’d rather they just didn’t bring it up at all. Nobody wanted to sit with their own discomfort like that. “Would you like a cupcake?” I gestured to the display behind me, and Isabella smiled softly.
She shook her head. “Not right now,” she said, giggling. She brushed her hands over the front of her gown and winked. “But later, when all these guests stop looking at me? I’ll have two. ”
With another laugh, she turned to walk away, but Ronan didn’t follow. Instead, he continued to stare at me. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sympathetic smile that told me he thought she’d be more interested in my desserts than in my headline-worthy past.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.” It wasn’t a lie. I was used to being a constant subject of sympathy. It was something I’d worked for a decade to get out from under. “I know why you hired me tonight.” I just want to help you.
A crooked smile tugged at his cheek. Before he could say whatever thought had caused the smile to become a grin, a man threw his arm over his shoulder. Ronan stiffened, grabbing his wrist and locking it in his grip to free himself. “You cocksucker,” he grunted when recognition crossed his face.
“Oh, relax. Who did you think it was?” The man elbowed Ronan, and when he saw the trays of macarons, he pointed with childlike excitement. “I’m Enzo. Ronan’s cousin,” he said, sticking his hand out to me.
I took it. “Nellie. It’s nice to meet you.”
When he gasped, Ronan rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t resist the giggle that rolled from my chest. “Oh, you’re the one with the cookies!” he shouted.
“They’re macarons,” Ronan and I said at the same time, our heads snapping toward each other. I put my fingers over my lips, and he lifted both brows. Enzo’s head bounced back and forth between us.
“Whatever they are,” he said, shoving a macaron into his mouth and reaching for a second, “they’re like crack.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks warmed, and I knew I was blushing a deeper red when the warmth traveled into my neck.
“Enough,” Ronan snapped, smacking the back of Enzo’s hand when he reached for another. “Save some for the rest of the party.”
Enzo rolled his eyes so dramatically, the rest of his head followed, and he groaned. “Fine. It was nice to meet you,” he groaned, turning toward the door. His eyes widened, and a sudden look of excitement crossed his face. When he pointed, our gazes followed. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Who?” Ronan asked, narrowing his eyes and looking between people in the crowd he didn’t seem surprised to see.
Then, in a quick move, Enzo reached between us, snatching two more macarons before he did a half-spin move and hurried off into the crowd with a cackle. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Ronan grumbled, pinching his nose between his finger and thumb even as a smile tugged at his lips. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. I thought he was funny,” I said, feeling almost giddy when Ronan lifted a single brow, like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Charming, even,” I added to it, and Ronan scoffed. Not one to take a joke, I guess.
“I should get going.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb at a crowd of people he had spent the start of the evening weaving through. “If you need anything, just shout.”
“Yeah, you already said that.” I winked, and another layer fell from the defensive wall I put up against Ronan Moretti when he smiled. It was something about the way his eyes lit up when he did, almost like he was a different person. Who was he normally?
I watched Ronan walk away, disappearing into a crowd of people he fit in with. Even then, he didn’t blend with them. It was like he stood out differently from the other Italian men in expensive suits. Ava elbowed me in the side, pulling me from my daze.
“You okay?” she asked, an amused look plastered on her face. I nodded.
“Totally fine.” I grabbed cupcakes that didn’t need to be moved and rearranged them in an attempt to appear busy. “Why?”
Ava looked at me the way she always did when she was getting ready to tell me that I was full of shit. I put my hands on my hips, preparing to tell her not to even start, when her eyes got wide, and I felt a presence behind me.
“So you’re the cupcake girl,” the man said. He wasn’t questioning it. What the fuck does that mean? The man looked similar to Ronan but older, with a slight steel coloring to his hair. He looked mean, like I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. I straightened my spine and nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about your bakery.”
I gaped at him, confused by the contrasting empathy in his cold tone. How much did he know about it? “Thank you,” I finally said, trying to come up with something to say that would make him look less intimidating. My mind blanked, and the buzzing in my ears was replaced by an excited squeal. I jumped.
“Ooh, cupcakes!” a girl yelled. “Move over, Giaco!” Giaco. Ronan’s older brother. I remembered hearing him and Dickie talking about him when they were younger. He never seemed like he was very nice then. He didn’t look like he was much nicer now.
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Grace,” he scolded when she ran her finger through the frosting and stuck it in her mouth.
“You’re the only one who’s embarrassed,” the woman said, scooping another fingerful of frosting from the top of the cupcake. Giaco grumbled, turned, and strolled away with his hands clenched in soft fists at his sides. I bit back a laugh that matched Grace’s. “So which one of you is it that my brother keeps going to see?”
Ava pointed at me before I had a chance to deny it, and I fought the urge to cover the blush I knew was only getting darker. “It’s not like that,” I said, sticking my hands up in front of me instead. “He was friends with my older brother, and apparently, he likes cupcakes.”
Grace laughed, and it resulted in several stares turning in our direction. “Yeah, we’ll go with that if you want.” She shrugged, and when Ava chuckled, Grace looked proud of herself, like she’d figured out the answer but wasn’t going to fill the rest of us in on it.
“Grace,” Ronan said sharply, making us all jump. “Mom is looking for you.”
She straightened herself out, spinning and flipping her long brown hair when she did. “It was nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder before she nearly skipped off.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Ronan said, directing his attention to me. I looked behind him at the party he seemed to be spending most of the evening ignoring and put my hands on my hips.
“I’m working, remember?” I waved at the table behind me that was now missing several cupcakes. Ava stood behind it, placing new cupcakes in the empty spaces.
Ronan nodded but reached out and put his hand on my shoulder anyways. “It’s business. Plus, Ava will watch the table for five minutes.” He looked at her. “Won’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Ava said, pretending to ignore the glare I shot in her direction. “Take your time,” she added when Ronan started to lead me through the crowd I clearly didn’t belong in.
He led us toward a quieter corner of the room, one that held three men. I recognized his cousin from earlier, and next to him was Giaco. He looked as grumpy as he had seemed at the table. Was he always like that? Standing between the two of them was an older version—one who looked gentle but like he’d seen a lot. There was a scar on his jaw, and I traced my gaze along it before we walked up.
“Dad, this is Nellie Giordano,” Ronan said when he had their attention. “Nellie, meet Anthony Moretti. You remember Enzo, and I believe you’ve also met my brother, Giaco.”
I rolled my shoulders back, trying to stand up straighter under the gaze of all four men. “It’s very nice to meet you,” I said, nodding. At least I didn’t curtsey.
“You make quite the dessert,” Anthony said. His voice sounded a lot softer than his hard exterior led me to believe, and I bit back a tickled laugh. “Though it’s too bad your bakery was vandalized. I’m sure they’ll do what they can to find out who it was. I have a friend down at city hall. I’ll ask him to put a little weight behind it.”
The other men nodded, and though I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, my stomach flipped with a nervous excitement. Part of me wanted to thank him for the offer and tell him I could handle it on my own, but more of me knew Anthony Moretti wasn’t likely to take no for an answer. “Thank you,” I said instead. “I think I’ll get it all figured out.”
“You can guarantee it,” Giaco said, and I fought the shiver that raced down my spine. Why did they all care so much about my bakery? When I looked at Ronan, he was nodding with a dark, angry glare on his face.
I swallowed the lump that rivaled the butterflies in my throat. “It was, uh, really nice to meet you all. I should get back.” I pointed over my shoulder, as if none of them knew where back was. The party seemed to blur around me when I hurried back to the table, well aware that Ava would be anxiously waiting.
“What was that about?” she asked when I was barely within earshot.
I shook my head, reaching for a macaron and taking a large bite. “I don’t know.” Be careful who you take help from.