Chapter 19
AVA
Isit in the back seat, gently stroking Theo as he throws his head back and wails like he knows what’s going on. Mom hung up, said she had to give a statement to the police, but not before telling me about a shooting outside the house. Rafe is driving, speaking with someone on speakerphone.
“Any dead?” he demands.
“No, but Riccardo took one to the shoulder. I think we got one of theirs. We had to leave the house, boss.”
“I’m on my way there now,” Rafe grunts.
I risk a glance in the rearview, at this rage-filled man who makes my soul – and, okay, my body – do confusing and contradictory things.
The scene Mom’s phone call interrupted is tattooed onto me, stinging, hot.
He was like a wild man when he tore my shirt down and began to feast on me.
Like he savors every mark, every sign of my pregnancy.
I push all that deep down. Or try to.
You should not be thinking of that now, I scream on repeat in my head.
“Can you drive faster?” I ask.
“Not with Theo in the car,” Rafe snarls.
I chew my lip, looking at our wailing son. He’s right, obviously. I know that. And yet I can’t stop thinking about Mom and Dad, unprotected in their house. Once the cops leave, maybe those men will come back. Men who are only in our world because of Rafe, because of that magical night.
I look at him in the mirror again, trying to make myself resent him, to hate him for claiming me. But I can’t. Because that night – and even now, somehow – I wanted to be claimed.
Finally, we pull up outside the house. I get Theo from the back seat, cradling him to my chest. He’s crying more softly now, but still shuddering and whimpering. I stop when I realize Rafe’s not following.
“Rafe?”
He grinds his teeth, then nods to the police car. “I’ll wait down the street. Once they’re gone, I’ll join you.”
My stomach tightens as I hold our son to my chest. It’s just another reminder of how different our worlds are. Or should be.
Rushing inside, I find Mom and Dad on the couch, two uniformed police officers speaking with them.
“Uh, hi. I’m their daughter.”
“We’re almost done here,” one of the officers says.
“I can wait in the kitchen.”
He nods, then turns to my mom. “Did you notice anybody suspicious on the street?”
I retreat to the living room, relieved they won’t be questioning me. That would mean lying to the cops… lying to protect this stranger who just so happens to be the father of my baby and the man who makes my heart do somersaults.
I sit with Theo on my knee, gently rocking him. He’s finally settled down now, head lolling with the motion. After what feels like forever, Dad appears in the doorway, a tired look on his face. “The police have left. I think they need to question the whole neighborhood.”
I feel sick just looking at him. Every second I’m not explaining that I know more, is another second I’m betraying him.
When I join them in the living room, Mom is flicking through news stations.
“The police have no clue,” she snaps, huffing. “No idea why people would be shooting on this street, where the worst that happens is Jocie Carraway cheats at the annual baking competition. What sort of madness is this?”
I sit, swallowing a ball of nerves.
I need to tell them. Now. I should’ve already told them.
The gun fight was between the security, my mafia man sort-of boyfriend posted outside your house… and the Hungarian mob, who my boss sort of has ties with.
There’s a heavy knock at the door.
“What now?” Dad groans, standing.
Dad returns a moment later, raising his eyebrows at me as Rafe towers behind him. Rafe looks serious and focused.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ward,” he says, standing at the door with his arms behind his back. “You’re going to need to come with me. I’m moving all four of you into the suite of a hotel until this is over.”
Mom turns to him slowly, like she’s just woken up from a dream. “Until what is over?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Dad says. “That had nothing to do with us. It was random.”
“It wasn’t random,” Rafe says regretfully, looking at me with guilt in his eyes. “Ava, I’m sorry. But they have to know.”
I want to bury my face against Theo, close my eyes, smell his baby smell, and pretend none of this is happening.
“I posted those men on your house to keep you safe. They were defending you against other men, men a rival in my organization sent after them… or you. I can’t be sure. Which is why—”
Mom stands abruptly, shaking her head. “No, no, wait a second. You’re an art dealer, correct? What sort of business could lead to something like this?”
“I’m not an art dealer,” Rafe snarls.
“What are you, then?”
“A man trying to keep you safe,” Rafe snaps. “And a man who can’t give you every single detail about his organization.”
Dad approaches Rafe, gesturing at him with his finger. For a scary second, I think Dad’s going to hit him. “If you expect us to go with you, you’d better give us some answers.”
“Dad,” I hiss. “Just stop. Please.”
He turns to me, disbelief on his face. “Stop? We’ve just had our peace disturbed in our own home. Now I’m supposed to waltz off with this stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger,” I snap. “He’s Theo’s father.”
Rafe looks at me in shock, a heartbreaking smile on his face, as though he thought I’d never acknowledge his parentage.
“The fact is,” Rafe says. “We’re in danger just by being here now. With the police gone, everyone in this room is at risk.” He looks at me with that same seriousness. “Including our son, Ava. We need to go. Now.”
I stand with Theo, rocking him gently, looking at my mother. “Can we just do this, please? It’s not like he’s asking us to go someplace bad. Just a hotel. Just for a little while.”
Mom folds her arms. “Not without answers—”
“For Theo,” I hiss. “Please. Rafe’s telling the truth. We won’t be safe otherwise.”
“What’s so safe about a hotel?” Dad demands.
“The men who did this won’t risk storming a fancy hotel, possibly killing civilians on the way, just to get to you.”
“This makes no fucking sense,” Dad snarls, squaring up to Rafe. My heart nearly beats out of my chest. “But for my grandson and my daughter, we’ll go.”
Rafe leaves us in the most luxurious hotel room I’ve ever been in. Well, not a room. It has three bedrooms, a balcony garden, a sauna, a bathtub, a huge living room, and a modern kitchen. Rafe takes off almost immediately, leaving us in testy silence.
Once I’ve got Theo settled in his bassinet – Rafe said he’s going to send someone with the rest of our things – Mom and Dad confront me in the living room. They look tired and furious at the same time.
“Answers,” Dad snaps. “Now.”
I swallow. What choice do I have? They deserve better than this.
“First, I need you to swear on Theo that you won’t tell the police.”
“What?” Mom snaps, then throws her hands up and turns as if talking to an imaginary audience. “What has our lives come to?”
“You have to swear, Mom, or I won’t say.”
“God,” Dad says, sighing. “I swear on Theo.”
“I do too,” Mom snaps.
Sorry, Rafe.
“Rafael Bellini is the Don of the Bellini mafia. He’s not an art collector. Well, not just an art collector.”
“The Don of the mafia?” Mom snaps.
“But it’s not what you think,” I say quickly. “He’s a good man. He doesn’t hurt people. He doesn’t sell drugs or anything like that. He blackmails politicians and billionaires, and uses their money to buy art.”
“Listen to yourself,” Dad says, sitting next to me and taking my hands. “He’s a good man… who also happens to be a thief, Ava? Who threatens and blackmails people?”
“It’s not as simple as you’re trying to make it sound,” I say.
“He’s messed with her head,” Mom mutters.
“He hasn’t,” I snap, turning to her. “And I’d prefer if you spoke to me, not about me. He has not messed with my head.”
Mom just looks at me. It’s all she has to do. She knows I’m lying, and so do I.
“Well, great,” she says, standing. “Theo’s dad is a mob boss, and now our lives have been blown to pieces. This is just fantastic. I’m going to sleep in that ludicrously extravagant bed. Or just lie there staring at the ceiling. Good night.”
“Mom—”
“Give her some space,” Dad says gently.
“What about you? Do you hate me too?”
He looks devastated, then pulls me into a hug. “I could never hate you, Ava. But I won’t lie. This is complicated.”
I swallow. “Maybe it won’t be complicated forever.”
He laughs softly. “No, maybe not.”