Текст книги "End of the Innocence"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter 18
After I polished off some pecan pie we moved—Brad, Maria and I—a threesome of normal, up a giant staircase onto a quiet floor and down a plush hallway. Brad’s hand protectively at my back, I recognized this for what it was—time. Maria gave me a small smile, kissed Brad gently on the cheek, and leaned on a large set of double doors.
It was dark inside, and I blinked, trying to adjust to the light. Dark mahogany lined the walls of my dream library, a space filled with books of every shape and size. Other than bookshelves, there was one fireplace, four chairs, and three men. The family.
Maria excused herself, leaving me as the sole vagina in the room, a ratio that left me distinctly uncomfortable. I fought the urge to fidget as we stepped forward.
Beauty. That was the first thing that hit my mind. The genes that blessed Brad with an impressive stature, gorgeous features, and mind-numbing sex appeal hadn’t skipped over his siblings. Two dark, younger versions of Brad, similar in their devastation, but slightly varied in features, stood before me, flanking an older man, who stood at our entrance. He stepped forward, aided by a cane, a tall man with a shock of white hair and dark skin. He stopped before us and tilted his head at me.
“You must be Julia.” A scratchy voice spoke, that despite its tenor, commanded respect. Eyes that studied me carefully.
Unsure of the proper protocol, I stepped forward, extending a hand and shaking his. He had a fierce grip, and grabbed my opposite shoulder as he grasped my hand, locking me into his space, his eyes arresting me. They searched my soul, a desperate invasion that explored every inch, distrust and accusation in their depths. With a jerk, he released my hand, turning away from me and walking carefully back to a leather chair which he sank into, words tumbling from his mouth with a sigh. “Please, sit. I am weary from today’s activities.”
Brad gestured to a chair and I sat, my legs shaky. He stood beside me, strong and tall. “We can’t stay long. We have other obligations.”
His father scoffed, an action that turned into a cough, and he stopped for a moment, his face turning red before he let out a series of coughing barks. One of the men beside him stepped forward, concern in his eyes, and the old man waved him off irritably. “Stop that, sit down. Everyone, sit down. Brad, find a chair. I won’t have you hovering above me like a damn hawk.”
I glanced at Brad, noting his tight face, and watched as he nodded, dragging up a chair, wariness across his features.
“I assume you know the business of this family?” It was a dry question, stated without malice or concern, directed at me.
I nodded, meeting his sharp eyes. “Yes.”
“And you find ... issue, with this business?” He watched me closely, sitting back in his chair and studying me.
I stared back, my face expressionless. “Issue would be the wrong word. I disagree with your business practices. Issue indicates that I am confrontational in my disapproval.”
A slow smile spread over his face, a transformation that brought a hint of the good looks he must have once possessed. “That’s an interesting choice of words, Ms. Campbell.”
I said nothing, and he glanced briefly at Brad. “What exactly are your intentions with my son?”
“I intend to marry him.”
“Yes, I gathered that from my son. The issue is, Ms. Campbell, that marrying Bradley is not quite as simple as happily ever after. Do you love my son?”
I hesitated at the change in his tone, the question rolling harsh off his lips. “Yes.”
He leaned forward, fixating me with cold eyes. “Imagine your love for my son, if love is what it truly is. Whatever that love is, it won’t possibly compare what you will feel for your own children—what I feel for Bradley, as well as my other sons. Your children, whether they are number one or five, will be more precious to you than your own soul. And you, choosing him to marry, to father your children, are putting those future babies in danger. You will never be able to sleep soundly, knowing the evil that waits for them. You will never be able to vacation, or play with them in the park, without worrying about cars driving by, or men who look at you a moment too long. You are not marrying Brad. You are marrying this family, and endangering yourself and your children with that act. You may be scared of me now, child, but I am one family. There are four others, in this city alone, that have us dead center in their targets. You are not, and will not, be safe in this family. You are marrying into a lifetime of fear, and you need to understand that now, before it is too late.”
I listened to his words, understanding the reasoning behind them, my thoughts wandering down paths I had not even considered. I had been so worried about being against the Magianos that I had not considered what being part of them would entail.
“I am not marrying Brad for safety. I am marrying him because I am in love.”
He leaned back and smiled slightly, a cruel expression on his face. “Let me tell you a story about Bradley. We had a dog, an old mutt that used to sit behind one of our butchers. He would eat the scraps that we threw out each day. And one day we opened the shop to find him inside, his mouth bloody, meat still inside his mouth. I started to kill him, grabbed a meat beater from the counter and went to smash his skull in. But Brad stepped in front of me.”
He laughed, looking over at Brad. “The boy was eleven years old, and he stepped in front of me, his father, to save a dog.” He stood, leaning heavily on the cane, the movement slow and pained. “You don’t know the Italian way, but disobedience is not acceptable. I told Brad to leave or kill the dog himself. He refused, and stood his ground.” He shot Brad a look of disgust. “He defied me over a dog, a mutt, an animal not worth mopping the floor with.”
He looked into my eyes, stepping forward, speaking slowly. “I used the beater on Brad’s skull instead, knocking him unconscious with two blows. He spent four days in the hospital before he woke up. And his first question when he did?” He closed his eyes briefly. “The dog, he wanted to know about the damn dog!” He finished the statement with a snarl, his finger stabbing the air in Brad’s direction to punctuate the sentence.
“We had killed that dog before we even took Bradley to the hospital. Bradley risked himself for a dog—a trash animal he had played with in the alley one day. So yes, he is marrying you, but what does that mean to me?” He straightened and turned, walking carefully, his words tossed over his shoulder to me. “You are worse than a dog, Ms. Campbell. That dog was hungry, eating for his survival. You are eating to get fat, and ruining my son’s life with your greedy acceptance of his sacrificial offer. I am not surprised that he is marrying you. I am only surprised that you are stupid and selfish enough to accept.” He waved dismissively in my direction and closed the space to the window, leaning heavily on the sill and looking out toward the backyard. “Leave, I am tired.”
I stood, anger radiating from me in waves of heat. I felt Brad’s hand at my arm, a warning in his touch. “Mr. Magiano, I am not marrying into your family. I want nothing to do with your family or your way of life. You scorn my decision to endanger my unborn children. I question your role as a father. You think you lead this family? You believe they have respect for you, but I assure you, anyone who respects you is not intelligent enough to distinguish fear from respect. Thank you for your time, it was a pleasure seeing what caused Brad to become the man I fell in love with. Anyone who left this family with some semblance of sanity has my admiration, and he certainly has my love.”
He laughed, a hard sound that did nothing but fan my infuriation, frustration swelling in me, mixed with a fear, an awareness of my low standing in this room. He turned, his eyes meeting mine across the room. In unison his two sons rose, twin pillars of gorgeous framing the old man’s empty seat. I ignored them, my hands in fists by my side.
The old man spoke slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “For someone who owes me her life, you are a nasty little bitch.”
I turned from his face and met the eyes of Brad’s brothers, two sets of barely contained anger. Right back at’cha. Then I turned, striding to the double doors and shoving on the wood with a burst of anger.
♦♦♦
The doors settled silently behind Julia, and Brad watched them close completely before turning back to his father. “She’s not Hillary. My love for her is much stronger than that. And she is much stronger than Hillary. You are not going to be able to scare her into submission, or convince her to leave with threats. She will stand up to you.”
A small smile creased the lines of his father’s face. “I would have thought you would have picked a smarter girl than that, Bradley.”
“Stay away from her. And make sure that message travels through the ranks.” He stared into one brother’s eyes, then the other, both of them shrinking slightly under his stony stare. He turned to leave and was stopped by his father’s voice.
“I thought you had her under control, Brad.”
He turned to meet his father’s eyes.
“You had assured me of her silence, of her loyalty to this family. You expect us to welcome her, to protect her, but she has nothing but disrespect for me and for your family. Why should I trust her to keep her silence?”
“You don’t have a choice. You are my father, and she will be my wife. It is done. Last I checked, blood still means something in this family.” He didn’t wait for a response, but turned and left the room, shoving open the double doors without restraint, the heavy wood slamming into the walls with a loud crack.
In unison, the two brothers moved, stepping forward with curses and anger but were stopped with the raised hand of their father. “Let them go.” He moved with slow steps back to his chair, settling in with a heavy sigh. “There are other ways to handle this.”
Chapter 19
We rode back to the house in silence, my mind flitting through the words of his father, playing on repeat the conversation we had had. My hands threatened to shake, and I squeezed them together. I was not used to confrontation. With Brad, yes. With strangers I didn’t know, ones who murdered people without thought, no. It was a new experience, and one I hoped to never experience again.
“Are you okay?” Brad’s voice was tight, and I looked over to see his jaw clenched.
“Yeah. You never told me about the dog ... and your father putting you in the hospital.”
“It’s one of a lot of stories, ones I never want you to have to hear. I’m at peace with them. They made me into the person I am today.” He reached over, gripping my hand. “He is right, about your safety.”
I ran my free hand over his, watching the muscles in his hand flex. “You mean, from the other families?”
“Yes. It is a small risk, but one that is present. The risk is diminished because of my lack of involvement in family activities. I don’t engage in actions that would spark a vendetta. But it is a risk, and the thought of someone hurting you terrifies me.” He pulled into the dark drive of the house, pressing the garage door opener and waiting on its movement. He turned to me. “My house is well protected—our security system is the best on the market. But that doesn’t protect you the rest of the time. How would you feel about private security? Someone to keep an eye on you when we are apart?”
I shuddered. “No.” The words spilled out quickly and with strength. “I don’t want anyone following me, or watching me. I need my freedom. I’d rather deal with the risk.”
His silence voiced his disapproval, and the car rolled forward, coming to a stop inside the garage. He turned off the engine and turned to me, cupping my face in his hand. He sighed, his eyes searching mine before pulling me to him for a kiss.
I broke the contact, wanting to finish the conversation. “Do you understand? Why I don’t want security?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want it either. But I don’t like the thought of you without protection. I want you to start training with Ben.”
“Ben? In what, jujitsu?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yes. Meet with him a few times; he can train you at the house. If you don’t think it’s worth your time, then you can stop.” The concern in his eyes was heartbreaking, unease submerged in dark brown depths.
A close friend of Brad’s, Ben didn’t strike me as lethal, but I knew martial arts were a major focus in his life. I had met Ben a few weeks after our engagement, and he was a familiar face in the house, taking advantage of Martha’s cooking on lasagna night, and often working out with Brad. I liked him, his quiet sense of humor a good fit with Brad’s and my outspoken personalities. Newly single, his last relationship had ended badly, the pain still fresh in his eyes when she came up. Ben and Brad had met playing baseball, part of a city league that ran for two months every summer. As best I could tell, baseball season was an event they looked forward to all year. Brad had spent a good part of last week in the den, poring over Eastbay catalogs with Ben and ordering custom uniforms, bats, and equipment. They were like kids looking forward to Christmas, our meals now revolving around lineups, schedules, and recruitment of key players.
“It’s either Ben or security. Pick one.” His mouth was a hard line, and I frowned at the ultimatum. But there was a part of me, a part that I tried to push away, that was shaken by his father’s words. They had opened a Pandora’s box of insecurity. About my safety, about Brad’s intentions, about our future. I looked away, pressing the button that closed the garage.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll start with Ben. See how it goes.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss on my lips. “Thanks, baby.”
Then we opened the doors and moved. For now, the conversation was over. But my doubts? Those little black bits of disaster that poison every healthy crevice of your mind? Those ran wild and unattended, setting up house and planning a big party, with all of my insecurities invited.
Chapter 20
DECEMBER
Days until wedding: 236
I folded over the red metallic paper and ran my thumb down the edge of the book, making a crisp line, the only OCD bone in my body was obsessed with perfect wrapping.
“Almost done?”
I turned to look at my mom, smiling when I saw her raised eyebrows. “You’re really asking me that question? After twenty-one Christmases of experience?”
“I thought you were bad before. Now, with proper funding, it’s become an official addiction.”
I bit my lip, keeping my pathetic comeback swallowed. “Think Dad’s getting along with Brad?”
“I can’t think of anyone your father’s ever not gotten along with. They’ll be fine.”
My father, one hour into today’s holiday festivities, had shot Brad a look of desperation, one that had been easily received, Brad asking for his assistance with some additional exterior decorations. They had left, Christmas lights and garland on the shopping list. Three hours ago. Three hours during which Martha had made hot chocolate, three batches of sugar cookies, and eight colors of icing. Three hours during which I had called Becca and Olivia, and they had showed up, eggnog in hand. With finals over, my last day at CDB complete, and Christmas just one week away, everyone’s spirits were high, and the kitchen and great room buzzed with feminine energy.
Mom and Dad were on day three of their visit, their car heading back to Georgia in the morning. Staying at a hotel in between campus and Brad’s home, I had been pleasantly surprised at how naturally they had fit into our lifestyle. Mom hadn’t blinked twice at Brad’s house, Martha had taken to them both with a friendly ease that had shocked me into silence, and Dad hadn’t tried to find a garage sale all weekend.
Friday, I’d taken them both to the office, Mom helping me pack up the drawer-full of items I had accumulated in a little over six months at the firm. It was bittersweet, packing up the pieces of the job that had brought Brad and me together. Once it was done, a small cardboard box holding my belongings, I sealed it with tape and then made my final rounds of the West Wing. Burge was professional, Sheila got a little teary, and the rest of the staff made their polite goodbyes. I had never regained my original standing as beloved intern, not after the news of my engagement broke. But the staff had warmed up considerably over the last two months, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss, in some small way, that wing of the firm.
“Okay, I’ve looked through this entire pile, and I can’t find a single gift with my name on it,” Becca grumbled, looking up from her curious shake of a wrapped present, the evergreen tree and mountain of presents almost swallowing her blonde figure.
“I haven’t wrapped yours yet,” I mumbled through a mouthful of cookie.
“So ... in other words, look for it around Easter,” Olivia cracked from the kitchen, where she put the final sprinkled touches on a cookie.
Mom’s earlier comment regarding my wrapping addiction was true. Before, I painstakingly wrapped gifts with paper and ribbon, mixing up the landscapes with fun labels. This year I had put Brad’s credit card to good use, cleaning out the local Michael’s craft store. Half the kitchen table was now covered with ribbons of every shape and size, individual stamp cutters, metallic pens, tiny ornamental garnishes, and enough rolls of paper to cover half of downtown.
“It’s six,” Martha announced without preamble, glancing at her watch. “You guys planning on eating sugar all night, or should I put something on?”
“Do you feel like cooking?” I glanced over casually. Martha’s weekends were traditionally untouchable, a time in which she disappeared from view and did whoknowswhat. The fact that she’d been hanging out with us all afternoon had been shocking on its own, an oddity I had avoided pointing out in fear of scaring her off. “I can call Brad. Have him and Dad grab pizza on their way home.”
She shot me a look that, five months earlier, would have melted my bones. “I’m not having him pick up pizza when I have a fridge full of cookable food. Let me get something on. But go call him. Tell him it’ll be hot in forty-five minutes if he wants to get fed.”
I didn’t argue, dialing Brad immediately. He and my father returned a half-hour later, bags from Home Depot in hand, and we moved to the dining room and ate, Martha’s beef soup and cornbread disappearing amid a flurry of conversation and laughter. Then we headed to the theatre room, my parents agreeing to one movie before they headed back to the hotel.
A Christmas Story won, and I curled against Brad’s chest in one of the leather couches, the dark room sending occasional flickers across my parents’ faces, two couches over. “Thank you,” I whispered to Brad.
He moved his head down, until his mouth was close to my ear, stealing a quick kiss before responding, his voice low, “For what?”
“Everything. Spending time with my parents, my dad.”
He turned his head slightly, my eyes looking up and catching his. “Family is important. Your family is important.”
I didn’t know what to say, and pushed up, brushing my lips against his before settling back against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around and squeezing me gently. I felt a moment of sadness at the realization that we would never experience this with his family, with his parents. Family was important. But was that only true when the family was a positive force? I didn’t know the answer to that question.
Chapter 21
JANUARY
Days until wedding: 197
I blinked rapidly, tried to focus on my professor’s voice. Twenty minutes left. Twenty minutes, and then I could hike a half-mile across campus, get in my car, and head to Brad’s. Pack a bag and sneak in a nap. Maybe convince Martha to whip up some cookies for our flight.
Hmmm ... cookies. Martha’s best are plain chocolate chips. Though maybe she could make some peanut butter ones. I like the ones where she puts in chunks of Reese’s Cups... Fuck. I closed my notebook quietly and stuffed it into my bag. Law school apps and records had already been sent. Getting a B on next week’s exam wouldn’t kill me. I knew my strengths. Focusing on a Friday afternoon with Vegas on standby wasn’t it. I pushed back my chair and snuck out of class.
We flew commercial, changing planes in Houston and landing in the city of sin at 9:30 p.m. on Friday. Brad was still in work attire and gave Leonard a tired grin as he relieved me of my bag. “Only carry-ons?” Leonard asked, shooting a quick look at the leather duffel Brad carried.
“Yep. This is a quick trip for us. We fly back tomorrow afternoon.” He clapped the man on the back, matching strides with him as we headed for the long white car.
“It’s good to see you both. And do I hear congratulations are in order?” The older man’s eyes twinkled as he opened the door for me, his warm face stretching into a smile.
“Yes, thank you.” I grinned, settling down into the dark elegance of the limo, reaching for Brad as he entered, my body naturally falling into the curve of his warmth.
“Have I mentioned how lucky I am?” Brad murmured against my hair, planting a quick kiss on my head.
I shook my head against his chest. “Not recently.”
“I am. Very lucky.”
I closed my eyes and smiled, relaxing against his warmth.
Twenty minutes later, Leonard pulled down the long curved drive of the Bellagio. Brad’s cell rang, and he glanced at the display before answering.
“Janine ... Yes. We just reached the casino. We’re gonna change, and then we’ll head your way.” He shot me a quick grin. “She’s with me.”
I looked out the window while he finished the conversation, watching the building, tourists, and trees come to a slow stop as we pulled into the Bellagio’s portico. He ended the call, and we stepped out in unison, twin valets at our doors, offering gloved hands and welcoming smiles.
♥♥♥
“Janine’s looking forward to meeting you,” Brad called from the closet, where the sound of zippers and hangers combined in reckless harmony.
I shot the mirror a wry look, twisting my hair up and pinning it into place before I reached for mascara. “Likely. I’m sure Janine’s less than enthusiastic about my new involvement.”
He appeared in the reflection behind me, shirtless, his muscular arms encircling my waist. “Ownership, babe. Not involvement.”
“Even more reason for her to hate me. Last time she saw us, I was your weekend piece and topless on a table with one of her strippers.”
He laughed, releasing me with a quick squeeze. “Janine’s spent a lot more time topless and on a table than you have. That move probably earned you some brownie points. Besides, tonight is more fun than business. I just want you to have a more intense tour of the club, meet the employees, and get a sense of what goes on.”
I exhaled a breath, studying my eyes in the mirror. Then I reached for lipstick.
