Текст книги "My sweetest oblivion"

Автор книги: Danielle Lori

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”

–Confucius

BIRDS CHIRPED. SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN pleasant rays through the window. And it felt like I’d been ridden hard and put up wet. A twinge of soreness ached between my legs, and my skin felt tender, as though Nico’s rough hands and scruff had rubbed me raw.

The reminder made me warm everywhere, though I knew it shouldn’t. My feelings toward him were flighty and annoying to even myself. I wanted a straight path to follow, with maturity and thoughtfulness, but I couldn’t seem to find that with him. He made me hot and then he made me cold. He was soft and then he was intense. He was rude and then he killed a man so he could have me.

I wasn’t using my brain when I thought of him, but another organ entirely.

One with a pulse.

I’d fallen asleep to still smelling him on my skin, in my hair, everywhere, and contentment had filled my chest. Though, there was a prickling sense of unease as well—at the crash that had come from his room shortly after I left, and the animosity seeping under the door. The violence was a normal staple in my life, but it was the cause of it that worried me.

Maybe Nico was finally realizing I came with baggage I wasn’t ready to give up. And I could only imagine he was regretting not getting a virgin wife. He didn’t like to share—that much was obvious.

Maybe I wasn’t what he thought he wanted.

Maybe he would return me now that he’d gotten me in his bed.

My papà would surely kill him if he tried that, but Nico never did seem afraid of breaking the rules. However, if my father wasn’t happy with the match, as I’d heard, maybe he would be glad Nico changed his mind?

My throat tightened. I’d believed that’s what I wanted—not to marry Nico—but, now that I thought about it . . . something wrapped around my lungs and squeezed. And it wasn’t because it would obliterate my already marred reputation.

With a little pang in my chest, I pulled myself out of bed and padded down the hall. I took a long, hot shower. My arms and legs were sore, and I hadn’t even done any of the work last night. I wondered if he still felt me somewhere. I wondered if he thought about me as much as I thought about him.

I hadn’t seen him after he left late the night before, and I wasn’t sure he’d even come home. If he had, he’d already gone to work. I didn’t believe he was here; it was too quiet and neither did it smell like bacon.

I slipped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around myself. As I reached for the door handle, it opened, and a body that reeked of cherry blossom bumped into me. It was a collision, my skull hitting hers before I fell back a few steps.

“Ow.”

“What the hell?” a feminine voice muttered.

A woman’s narrowed gaze centered on me. I rubbed my forehead with a grimace, but then that fruity scent hit my nose again.

Cherry blossom.

My throat closed up.

The shampoo.

I’d known there would be another woman in the picture, but I hadn’t thought I’d have to stand face to face with her in a towel.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped, rubbing her forehead as well.

My gaze swept downward and so did hers. Our eyes took in the other like we were at a public function and realized we wore the same dress. In this case, we happened to be screwing the same man.

She kind of looked like me. Her hair was medium-length and dark brown, but her features were soft and her body shape similar. Lovely. Nico had a type, and I’d been added to his group of hookups.

“Do you talk?” she bit out. “Or are you mute?” She put her hands on her hips and ran a condescending gaze down my body. “Would make the most sense for why Ace brought you home.”

I blinked.

I’d never had to respond to such a catty statement before. Had never even heard one come out of a woman’s mouth that wasn’t on TV. If any of my male relatives had heard, they would’ve lost it. Evil eyes and narrowed gazes? Of course, but only because men were oblivious to that sort of thing.

It was clear to me that Nico didn’t share the same values in regard to respecting the women in his life. If he had, he wouldn’t have even allowed her to be here. My chest tightened. And it began. He was going to parade girls in front of me like I was nothing. Maybe he thought that because I wasn’t a virgin I didn’t deserve his respect.

My palms grew clammy, my heartbeats icing over. However, something hot and bitter crept through me. Anger. He was upset enough about a fifty-cent ring that he threw something at the wall, and I had to share a bathroom with his whore?

My gaze found the other woman’s with indifference, and then I responded to the question regarding whether I spoke. “Sometimes.” Lifting a shoulder, I said, “Though I choose not to converse with spiteful shrews until after nine a.m.” I glanced at the clock on the wall that showed it was five minutes till.

Her mouth dropped open. “Well, you’re a real bitch, aren’t you?”

“And you’re in my way.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped to the side so I could get through. “You know,” she said a little too saccharine, “I was curious why Luca is downstairs. Must be here to help you with your walk of shame.”

“I think I’ll stay for a while,” I responded as I passed her.

“You’ll stay?” she repeated, like I was a bit crazy.

“That’s what I said.” Frustration had infiltrated my heart, burning a hole in my chest as I walked down the hall. Before I knew what I was doing, I stopped in front of Nico’s room. “And by the way”—I turned to look at her before opening my fiancé’s door—“you’re almost out of shampoo. Do you think you can get some more?”

Red crept into her cheeks just before I shut the door behind me.

I stood in Nico’s room for a moment, leaning against the door and staring at the wall. My chest constricted. I didn’t think I’d ever felt this frustrated. Maybe resentful regarding how my papà chose to handle my past transgressions, but not pure anger. This feeling that seared with a bitter, cutting flame. My eyes burned, and I blinked to keep the tears at bay. Nicolas Russo was not going to make me cry.

I’d prepared for this my entire life. Had told myself lies and prayed that when the time came I would believe them—that I didn’t need love or fidelity.

I put up walls. And he’d somehow knocked them down in a laughable amount of time.

I wanted to turn back the clock and never step into Nico’s room last night. A few moments ago, the memory of his hands had been warm, pleasurable impressions. Now, they were stains I couldn’t wash away.

From the exaggerated banging and clatter of pans downstairs, it was safe to say Isabel and I hadn’t hit it off. I’d realized shortly after shutting the door that it was Monday and the cook was supposed to be here.

Isabel comes Mondays and Thursdays, Nico had said. And then something about her cleaning too, though that was either code for “She fucks me too,” or she was the worst maid I’d ever seen. My gaze coasted Nico’s messy bedroom, taking in the shattered lamp with detachment.

Ever since I’d met him I’d resorted to immature games that put me in awkward situations. Like now, as I stood in a towel in his room to spite his mistress. I banged my head on the door. He made me do stupid things and I hated it.

I crossed the hall and put on my nicest maxi dress. A pretty outfit always made me feel better, though it didn’t seem to help today. I did my makeup, all the while hearing Isabel clanging around until a “Jesus Christ, woman. Shut up,” came from a disgruntled Luca.

I made my way down the stairs, and relief hit me when I found the kitchen and living room to be empty. I didn’t want to be unkind anymore; it was exhausting.

The office door was cracked, and Luca and Isabel’s hushed voices came from within as I got the coffee started. I checked my phone that had been charging on the counter. I had a text from my mamma about some wedding details but nothing else. I wanted to speak with Adriana, but I knew she wouldn’t have gotten her phone back. I was about to call the landline when the talking in the other room stopped, and now sounded suspiciously like . . . kissing.

A grimace pulled on my lips.

It felt like I was trapped in a Gabriella situation, though this time I was on the opposite side of the scenario: the girlfriend instead of the relative. I didn’t like this new angle at all.

A little moan.

I shifted on my feet. Were they seriously going to mess around with the door open? They had to know I was out here; the coffee was brewing and the creak in the stairs had been loud enough to wake the dead.

“Shit,” Luca coughed.

Yep, messing around.

I could only assume Isabel was trying to make me as uncomfortable as she could, and Luca was just a man and couldn’t turn down sex.

My stomach twisted as I imagined it was Nico in there with Isabel instead. I would have to grow used the possibility, and so I forced myself to believe it was him. I let the ache in my chest unfurl until it would scar.

I pulled up Benito’s number and sent him a text.

Me: Please come pick me up.

Three dots appeared right away, showing he was typing.

Benito: You know I can’t do that.

I expected his response, but it felt like all the walls were closing in on me and squeezing my lungs. If I didn’t get out soon, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Me: Please. I just want to talk to Adriana.

Benito: Call the home phone.

Me: No, I need to see her.

Benito: Dammit, Elena.

Me: Ple.. . .

Benito: Fuck. The things I do for women.

Relief filled me, and I sucked in a breath.

Benito: Is Ace there?

Me: No. Just Luca.

Benito: Make sure you ask him.

Me: Yeah, I know, Benny.

Benito: Don’t Benny me. Be there soon.

I took a cup of coffee to my room and waited for him to arrive. When I got a text saying he was waiting out front, I hopped up and headed downstairs, only to find Luca and Isabel still preoccupied. It’d been a good twenty minutes, at least. I hesitated. I couldn’t stay here for another second, but the thought of confronting either of them made my stomach dip.

I found a piece of paper and wrote a quick note that Benito had picked me up and I was going home for a couple hours. My hand faltered on the word home. I didn’t believe I thought of my parents’ as home anymore, but today the last place home felt like was here.

I left through the front door since Benito waited on the street, but that wasn’t only it. I didn’t want to use the back door in case Luca would hear. An awareness itched in a corner of my mind that he might not let me leave, and that wasn’t an option. My heart beat with uncertainty as I let the screen door shut with a quiet click.

I climbed into the passenger seat.

Benito was sending a text, probably to some unlucky lady. He was a sight for sore eyes, and for some annoying reason tears began to well.

“I gotta tell you about this one, Elena,” he said, tossing his phone in the center console. “Blonde, tall . . . and these legs. Damn.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger in the “perfect” sign and looked over at me. His hand dropped, and his expression darkened. “What did that asshole do?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “I’m just being a stupid girl.”

His gaze narrowed. “Elena.”

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He smelled like hundred-dollar hair gel and his signature cologne. “I don’t know how you get any women with how much cologne you wear. Could smell you from a mile away.”

He hugged me back. “Makes them come in droves.”

“Thanks for picking me up.”

His arms tightened around me. “If he hurts you, you’ll tell me.”

It wasn’t a question, though it felt like one. We both knew there was nothing he could do if it came down to that. Nobody meddled with a man’s wife or relationship in the Cosa Nostra. It wasn’t anyone’s business, regardless if he was abusive.

“I’ll tell you, but he hasn’t.” I pulled back and put my seatbelt on.

“So, what is this?” He wiped a tear off my cheek with a thumb. “Period shit? Aunt Flo in town?”

I laughed. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, cuz. Let’s go home.”

Home.

It didn’t feel right when he said it either.

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“If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they’d immediately go out.”

–William Blake

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK’S TICKS AND tocks filled the silent room.

Mamma took a sip of wine and stared at me.

Nonna sat on the adjacent couch, watching me like she knew I’d had mind-blowing, premarital sex last night.

I flushed.

She smiled like a cat.

“Have some fruit salad, Elena.” Mamma set down her wine glass to push a plate across the coffee table. “I just made it last night.”

“I’m not hungry, Mamma.”

Both of their gazes widened as though I’d confessed I wanted to join a convent. I suddenly regretted not accepting the salad.

My mother placed a hand on her chest. “I knew that Russo was abusing her.”

I sighed. “He’s not—”

“Please,” Nonna scoffed. “It looks consensual enough from where I’m sitting.” She observed me like someone would a bride in an off-white gown.

“Nadia,” Mamma scolded. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it wouldn’t be. You’re the biggest prude on this side of the Mississippi.”

“He’s not abusing me, all right?” I crossed my legs in discomfort. “I’m just not hungry.”

Mamma didn’t look like she believed me, and my grandmother’s expression softened as well.

“You’re always hungry,” Nonna muttered.

“Am not,” I replied like a two-year-old.

Mamma shook her head. “We should’ve never let this happen.” She pushed the plate closer to me. “This is the worst thing your papà has ever done.”

I raised a brow. The worst?

Nonna harrumphed.

“Nobody cared when he handed Adriana over without a second thought.”

“Of course we cared,” Mamma said.

“No, you didn’t. I distinctly remember you telling me to ‘trust my papà.’”

“Adriana would have been fine. You—” she cut herself off.

“Me, what?” I said calmly, though my cheeks heated in frustration. They didn’t worry about Adriana because they thought she could handle herself. They didn’t think the same of me.

She pursed her lips and nudged the plate. “Why don’t you eat the salad?”

“For the third time—I’m not hungry.”

“It’s the depression,” Nonna whispered to my mamma.

I exhaled. “I’m not depressed.”

“Then eat the fruit,” Mamma suggested.

“Yeah, cara mia. You need to eat the fruit. You’re too skinny as it is.”

“She’s not too skinny,” my mamma said. “She’s just right.”

Nonna eyed me with a frown. “She’s all boobs and nothing else.” Then muttered, “No wonder that Russo’s so hell-bent on having her.”

I scoffed. “If I were depressed that wouldn’t be a comment that would help.”

They both watched me like I’d just admitted I was depressed.

Mamma jumped up and shoved the plate closer. Another inch and it would be in my lap. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

My teeth clenched. “For goodness’ sake, I’m not going to eat that stupid salad, Mamma.”

“We can’t help you if you don’t help yourself,” Nonna mumbled.

I rubbed my temple. “Why don’t you think I can take care of myself? I can be just as assertive as Adriana.”

“Of course we know that,” Mamma said a little too quickly. “But maybe you’re not as emotionally . . . stable.” She closed her mouth like she realized that was worse than saying I wasn’t as assertive.

“Keep digging yourself into a hole, Celia,” Nonna muttered, taking a sip of coffee. “You’ll be to China in no time.”

I blinked. “Emotionally stable?”

Mamma played with her jacket zipper like it had suddenly become interesting. “Maybe that was the wrong term.”

“Please, Celia, do explain yourself,” Nonna urged with a grin. “I’m on pins and needles.”

“All I meant to say is that you’re softer than your sister . . . more docile, and a man like that Russo would abuse it.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but then realized she might be right. It was suddenly clear to us all that I’d lasted not even a week with Nico before I’d come home without an appetite.

“Simply put,” Mamma said, “we don’t think the Russo is right for you.”

“We?” Nonna’s brows pulled together. “Who’s we? Don’t put words into my mouth.”

I laughed, though I wasn’t amused in the slightest. “I didn’t believe he was right for me from the beginning, but it didn’t matter. ‘It is done,’ as Papà said.”

Mamma frowned. “Your papà doesn’t act like he wants this marriage. He’s been in a mood all weekend.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Celia. He’s been a downright cad.”

“If you tell your papà you are not happy with the Russo, maybe he will change his mind.”

I swallowed. Was I not happy? I wasn’t today.

“Even if Salvatore does change his mind,” Nonna said, “I’m sure she’s already as knocked up as your other daughter.”

Mamma grimaced. “Don’t be vulgar, Nadia.”

“Oh, Madonna, salvami. I wonder how you ever had three children. You’re as squeamish as a virgin.”

A headache bloomed behind my eyes and I stood. “I assure you, Nonna, I’m not pregnant. I’ve been on the pill for years.”

Nonna shot Mamma a look. “No wonder your daughters are little floozies. You’re practically encouraging them!”

My mamma muttered, “Better a floozy than senile,” as I headed out of the room.

The curtains were closed as though someone was in mourning. A lump showed beneath the tangle of blankets on the bed. Smallish in size, and blaring Seven Nation Army. I lifted the comforter and climbed in before pulling it back over my head. We lay on our sides facing each other, with Adriana’s iPod playing music between us.

When the song stopped, I pushed pause on her playlist. “What did one sister say to the other?”

She fought an eye roll, but a corner of her mouth lifted. “What?”

“Will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Expectantly, she pursed her lips like it was a hard decision to consider. “Your fiancé put Ryan in the hospital.”

He was her fiancé not even a week ago, but now that he was mine she was quick to make me accountable for his actions. “I know, or I guess I assumed. I’m sorry, Adriana.”

“I thought they were going to kill him.” Her voice was shaky with relief.

A piece of my heart dissolved into bits and pieces, leaving an empty ache behind. “But they didn’t.”

“No.” She traced the edges of her iPod. “I know it was because of you. You always know what to do.”

A lump formed in the back of my throat. If only that were the truth. God, sometimes it felt like I was stranded on a raft at sea. Today was one of those days.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

My eyes burned. “What’s it like?”

Her gaze met mine, her brows knitting. “What do you mean?”

“To be in love.”

“But—” She blinked, glancing at my left hand.

Understanding hit me. Of course she would think I was in love. I was a romantic at heart and I hadn’t even been able to lie to the world, let alone myself. I wasn’t a girl to have casual sex and everyone knew it.

I twisted the ring on my finger, and a bitter laugh escaped. “I didn’t even know his name, Adriana—don’t know his name.”

“Then why did you leave?” She frowned. “I thought you’d met him somewhere, fell in love, and went to be with him.”

Guilt pierced my chest. I was a terrible sister. I didn’t confide in her and I’d lusted after her fiancé. If I died before getting to Confession I was surely going to Hell.

I averted my gaze. “You know that little musical carousel I used to play over and over when we were younger?”

“Yeah, it’s pink.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Well, Nonno gave it to me for Christmas one year, if you remember. Since then, I’d always wanted to see a carousel in real life. A silly childhood dream, I guess. But it never happened . . . you know how busy Papà is.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, that night I left . . . I guess I couldn’t take the expectations. Everything felt like too much. Oscar Perez, and the idea that someone like him would be my future. Having to force a smile. Squeezing myself into this person I didn’t think I could be anymore. It started all at once; my lungs closed up and I couldn’t breathe. All I believed at that moment was that if I didn’t get out of the house, I was going to die. The carousel just sat there on my dresser, taunting me with fanciful dreams. I wanted one to come true, even as trivial as it was. So I snuck out, took the bus—”

Her eyes widened, and I laughed.

“I didn’t even stop to think that it was winter and the carnival wouldn’t be there. I guessed I imagined the carousel would be dusted with a little snow. Anyway, he was a security guard at a mall nearby and stopped to see why I was standing in an empty parking lot alone. And I don’t know . . . it just happened from there. I told him I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t have much money or a place to stay, and he took me to his apartment to figure something out.”

“He was probably trying to get laid,” Adriana muttered.

I laughed. “Maybe. Though, he seemed nice and genuine. He was charming, and I liked him . . . but I never loved him.”

Silence settled in the space between us, and a heavy weight had drifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to share that with somebody until now.

“I’ll be your Maid of Honor,” she said quietly.

“Thank God.” I put a hand on my chest in relief. “Otherwise I was going to have to ask Sophia, and can you imagine that speech?”

Her laugh was light before drifting off. “I have a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled. “I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt.”

She swallowed. “Elena, I was terrified they were going to kill him if they found out . . .” I knew she was trying to explain the reason she’d drunk so much. “And now I’m even more scared I’ve hurt the baby.”

“It’ll be okay.” I gave a piece of her hair a tug. “An Abelli is stronger than all that. Can you imagine hurting Tony with a few shots of vodka?”

She smiled. “A bullet doesn’t hurt Tony. Benito sure likes to whine about it, though.”

We laughed with a lightness that had been absent between us for a while. The amusement faded into an easy quiet.

“Love . . .” she started. “I guess it feels like you’re falling . . . and he’s the only one who could catch you.”

I thought about it for a second. “Sounds scary.”

She laughed. “No, not scary . . . thrilling.”

“For you, maybe. You’re not scared of anything.”

“You’re sure you aren’t in love?” she questioned once more, her gaze steady on mine.

“No, I’m really not.”

“Uh-oh,” she muttered.

Before I could question her, a loud commotion drifted up the stairs. The door slamming, masculine shouts . . .

I sat up, pushing the covers off.

When I recognized one of the angry men’s voices to be Nico’s, my stomach dropped to my toes. “Oh my god . . .”

My pulse trembled as I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall.

I froze at the top of the stairs.

If someone handcrafted nightmares for individuals, this would be mine. Anger permeated the air so thick it touched my skin. Luca, Lorenzo, and Ricardo stood in the foyer with tense countenances.

Something twisted in my chest as Nico and Benito got in each other’s faces and grabbed the other by the collar.

Nico shoved Benito against the wall hard enough a vase fell off the table and shattered. “You crossed a fucking line—”

“Ask me if I give a shit about your goddamn line.” My cousin pushed him back a foot.

“Maybe you’ll give a shit if I draw the line with your fucking body,” Nico growled.

They both had their guns pressed against the other’s temples before I could blink.

My heart turned to a block of ice.

The front door flew open and slammed against the wall. Papà, my brother, and Dominic stepped in.

Guns pointed in every direction.

Cazzo.

I think I really screwed up.

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