Chapter 40 Francesca
Francesca
“The rumor is Chris might be kicked out for it. It was practically assault.”
I blink at Harper’s terminology and realize, once again, how differently outsiders see things. She’s imagining expulsion, and I’m thinking Chris is lucky to be breathing.
The kiss upset me, and I’d half-expected Carlo to react like Da might’ve when he got home, by blaming me somehow for the bad behavior of another man.
But Carlo hadn’t blamed me at all. He spent the night on his knees attempting to make things up to me for the sedative in my wine instead.
A flicker of anger returns thinking about that, but anger is no longer the presiding emotion I feel when it comes to Carlo.
“Anyway, everyone’s talking about it. He’s not in class today. Did you talk to Chris afterwards?” I shake my head. “Don’t you think he’d deserve to be kicked out?” Harper asks, studying my face.
I shrug in reply. She’s been rattling on about Chris since lunch. I wish she’d drop it. Sometimes, it feels like her sole idea for making conversation is to ask me questions.
“His buddy thinks something has happened to him,” she says next, jerking her chin toward the young man I usually see Chris hanging out with between classes.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“They share a place in Greenwich Village. He says Chris didn’t come home last night, and he’s not answering texts or calls.”
I have to wonder… Carlo could have made him disappear, wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Did he?
“What are you doing now that we’re free for the day?”
I sigh over another question. “Going to see a concert.”
“Will your special friend be joining you?” Harper nods toward Faro who waits on the sidewalk for me. I don’t like the label she’s given my bodyguard.
“My husband is an important businessman. The driver works for him.”
“Never heard of a driver who hangs around the halls of your school instead of sitting in the car.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I clip, tired of this conversation.
“No, wait! I’m kidding around, Frankie. Who’s performing? Can I join you?”
Dammit, I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to be rude, but I need to focus on finding a way to talk to Ronan.
And you need a distraction.
A plan springs to mind, a very stupid plan perhaps, but the best one I can come up with on the fly.
“Sure. Listen, my driver is sort of my watchdog, too.” Harper’s eyes sparkle at the prospect of shared intrigue.
“My husband is very protective, but there’s an old friend I wanted to see at the park… ”
***
The crowd feels suffocating, crushing inward on all sides.
It’s a warm autumn day, and the back of my neck is sweaty with my thick curls piled up under the baseball cap Harper loaned me.
If I glance back, I can see Faro about fifteen feet behind us, looking royally pissed off at himself for agreeing to this.
I don’t even know the name of the group performing, but Harper and I insisted we wanted to get closer to the stage.
“I’m going to tell him we want some water now,” my accomplice says. Harper takes a wide path around the crowd toward Faro, the plan being to distract him long enough for me to head for the shelter of those trees behind the stage and hope Ronan might find me.
Guilt rips through me watching her go. I shouldn’t have involved her. Faro will be in big trouble if I disappear on his watch. I shouldn’t be doing this. If I’m caught, Carlo would consider it betrayal.
A rough hand snatches mine through the crowd, tattooed between thumb and forefinger with a small black rose, the mark of the brG.
It’s Ronan. Does he still have his Trio tattoo over his heart?
His beard is shaggy, and he’s wearing another hoodie to cover his reddish-brown hair.
Even so, I worry my brother’s tall frame might be hard to miss.
“Drop your phone,” he commands out of the corner of his mouth.
“My phone? Why-”
“They’ll track you through it.”
I do as he says, and Ronan leads us straight toward where the jostling crowd is thickest. He savagely shoulders our way through to the other side of the stage and then through a maze of trailers that must hold stage equipment.
Further and further, we go away from the crowd until we reach a hidden glade surrounded by evergreen bushes.
When he stops abruptly, I stumble into the back of him. “That was my heel you just stepped on, little warbler,” my brother says, wryly.
A flash of the day I met Carlo and stepped on his heel makes me pause.
But the once-dreaded, bird-inspired nickname Ronan teased me with when we were younger and that familiar aftershave he started wearing before he even needed to shave has tears gathering in my eyes.
I can’t help reaching around his waist to hug him from behind.
“I can’t believe you dragged me away from a man like Faro that easily. ”
“I’m the same sort of man. It wasn’t hard in a crowd like this.
” His eyes are alert, scanning the area while I cling to him, before he pulls me under his arm so I’m standing in front of him.
Harper’s cap tumbles off, and my hair falls free.
“I've been worried sick about you, Frankie,” Ronan says, the sudden warmth in his dark blue eyes making me even more emotional.
We share another hug then, our first real hug in years. Our encounters were too brief and public when we met in Reno to risk it. Hell, this is way too risky now, but I’ve missed him so much. “Mom is so happy knowing you're alive. You can’t risk your life this way, Ronan. It would kill her if-”
“When is she coming to New York again?”
“In a few days. For my wedding reception.”
Ronan’s upper lip curls into a sneer. “Goddamn Vicini.”
“Do you think we could work out a way for her to see you?” I ask, not wanting to argue about Carlo.
“Not until I have a course of action set. Be alert and be ready.”
“Ronan…”
“We belong together, Frankie. We’re a family. Da tried to destroy that, and the fucking Italians were more than happy to finish the job, but they didn’t. I’ll take care of you both now, better than Da ever did, you’ll see.”
“But I’m married-”
“That fucker should’ve been married to Sofia two months ago. I never should’ve agreed to that nonsense you concocted to help her. And you know how they are with their Seconda and their other fucked-up traditions. He’ll never make you a good husband.”
“I understand why you say that but-”
“Every fight, every threat, every second of pain I’ve endured, I’ve done it to be in a position to help you and Mom at last, Frankie. I’ve missed you, little warbler,” he says, cupping my face.
“I’ve missed you, too.” My heart squeezes with both love and anguish. Where do my loyalties truly lie? To the husband that has me right where he wants me, living in a golden cage, or the brother I’ve known all my life?
“Your watchdog is probably already calling for reinforcements. He knows it’ll be his head if he loses you.
” As if on cue, a commotion can be heard coming from the stage area in the distance.
Instinct tells me they’re coming. “Go back to them for now. Tell them you were searching for a bathroom and lost your phone. I’ll be in touch soon. ”
One final embrace and he disappears into the bushes, leaving me with tears on my cheeks and so many questions. How can I pretend a missing phone is the worst of my troubles? How can I possibly fool Faro? How can I make Ronan understand what he has decided is best for me might not be what I want?
The snap of a twig only gives me a millisecond of warning before a man joins me in my secluded hiding spot. I’ve been found.
But not by Faro.
“Francesca,” Carlo breathes, looking equally vexed and concerned. What is he doing here and how did he find me so quickly?
“I-I dropped my-my phone,” I stammer. I’m a terrible liar, but he pulls me into a tight embrace after his dark eyes have scanned me from head to toe.
I shudder in his hold, inhaling his familiar scent like oxygen and wishing I could simply tell him the truth and beg him again to spare Ronan if he ever catches him.
But the next moment, his body stiffens. He rears back, staring down at me with a harsh expression. “What is this new fragrance you’re wearing?” he asks in an icy voice that raises every last hair on the back of my neck.
“I…” Oh God, I smell like Ronan’s aftershave.
Frozen in place, I can scarcely breathe when he leans in, baring his teeth and looking more unhinged than I’ve ever seen him. “Have you let another man have what’s mine, Francesca?”
"No!" But if I say the fragrance is my brother's… they know what he looks like, and they'll search high and low.
“I want to believe that. Believe me, I do. But how can I believe anything Brian Donnelly’s daughter tells me when it’s obvious you’re lying?”
The wounded look in Carlo's eyes hurts me more than I would ever have expected.
Faro and another soldier stumble into the glade before I can reply.
They have my phone. He turns away from me to address his men.
“Take her to the hotel where the reception will be held. Guard her, day and night. She’s allowed to see her family when they arrive but no one else, and she’s to remain there.
Set up the watch rotation and send it to me. I have work to do.”
Without another word, he strides away, leaving me alone with my guards.