Chapter 25
Present day
It's been two days since Ice got arrested. We are all still in a state of shock; none of us expected this to happen. I find myself wondering when things will get better. Haven't we been through enough?
I can't look at Emma with any kindness right now. All my rage is directed at her. This is her fault. My stomach turns when I think of Ice sitting in jail because of her.
Hawk has been busy the last couple of days; other than him passing through here and there, I hardly see him. I know that he's contacted Vitali and Ice's legal counsel is arriving today. I also know that he had new identities made for Rebel's parents and thankfully, they are leaving. It's all been hush-hush as to where they are going, which I assume is for their own good.
Before Hawk left this morning, he mentioned to me that we will be having company for dinner. Apparently, Ice's lawyer and Sainte are coming. I'm really not in the mood for entertaining, but he asked me to prepare something nice for them tonight and so I am in the kitchen busily preparing my best Italian meal. I thought it would be fitting since we were entertaining the Italian Mafia.
I remember when Ice got arrested he told Hawk to call Vitali and asked him to get Sainte here. I assumed then that he wanted Michael Vitali for his legal connections. The club has used them in the past. But I had no idea who Sainte was. When I asked Hawk about him, he was very vague. He said something about him being a top button pusher for the Vitali crime family. I had no idea what he meant, so I asked him what a button was and he said, “When Michael Vitali tells him to push a button, Sainte pushes the button.” He didn’t elaborate and I can only guess that the button is a reference to someone’s life. So Sainte is a mafia hitman.
The whole idea of them being involved in this makes me nervous. I've never really had any dealings with the Mafia before, but I've heard stories. The last thing I want is for us to get into a situation where we owe them something. When I voiced my concerns to Hawk, he quickly assured me that our relationship with the Vitalis is good and that I don't need to worry. Obviously, he couldn't tell me more.
It's now half past six, and dinner is just about ready. Emma, who has spent the last two days in her room, finally decides to come down. Ari has taken food up to her a time or two but she just picks at it, which is a great fucking way to take care of Ice's kid. I understand that she is upset, but she has a little one to think about. It's not always all about her. I told myself that if she didn't come down for dinner tonight and actually eat something, I was going to go up there and force-feed her.
"Hey Emma, nice of you to join us," I say sarcastically.
"Hi Honey," she says and sits down on one of the barstools. When I don't pay her any mind, she adds, "I'm sorry for being such a pain the last couple of days."
"Don't worry about it, Emma. We're all under a lot of stress. Ice getting arrested is not a good thing for this club, but we're dealing." I don’t want to come right out and say it, but I want her to understand the ramifications of all this. I want her to see that this is all her fault.
"I know, and I know I'm responsible."
There it is. Well, at least she fucking admits it. I have to say, I fully expected her to place blame elsewhere.
She continues, "Hawk tells me that I shouldn't feel responsible, but I do."
What. The. Fuck! How dare he tell her that when he knows as well as I do that if she wasn't here, we would still be back in our old clubhouse and safe. Hawk and I are definitely having words later.
"You know what, Emma? I'm not in the greatest of moods right now and I'm afraid that I will say something that I shouldn't. Let's just drop this and concentrate on dinner. We've got the Vitalis coming soon; they should be here any minute."
"But Honey, I feel that there is tension between us and I want to clear the air."
I hold up my hand and take a deep breath. "Yes, there is tension, but I am not going to do this now. Grow a pair, Emma, and be the old lady that Ice needs you to be." She stares at me, offended.Poor, pitiful Emma. I'm so done with this shit. I'm sick of everyone coddling her and I'll be damned if I continue to do so.
Before she can respond, the front door opens and in walks Hawk and two very handsome men. One is dressed in a suit and I am assuming he is the lawyer. But the other one …holy fuck!He's dressed in tight jeans and a black t-shirt that fits so perfectly that you can see the ribbing of every muscle on his torso. His jet-black hair is cut in a short buzz that totally accents his chiseled face. He looks like a man that nobody would want to run into in a dark alley.
Hawk walks into the kitchens and says, "Ladies, this is Vince Bonito and Nick Saintero," as he points to each man respectively. "Gentlemen, this is Emma, Ice's old lady, and Honey, my old lady."
Old lady? When did that happen? Did I miss a conversation we had?
I notice that Nick—or I guess he goes by Sainte—looks at Emma curiously. He walks over to her and says, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma. I've heard a lot about you from Ice."
What the hell does that mean? And why would Ice be talking to this guy about Emma?
He then turns to me. "And Honey," he says as he winks and takes my hand and kisses the back of it, "truly a pleasure."
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?I quickly look over at Hawk—he looks annoyed, but he doesn't say anything.
The other guy, Vince, speaks up and says, "Hello ladies, I'm Ice's attorney. It's a pleasure to meet you both."
Sainte is still watching Emma closely, and I can’t make out why. Is it an attraction? What the fuck? Surely this guy knows that Emma belongs to Ice, especially if Ice has talked to him about her. The irritation riles me and I can’t take it anymore. "Ahh, Mr. Saintero," I say, "why don't you put your eyes back in your head? Emma is taken." Everyone in the room looks at me and I can see that they are surprised by my outburst. I don't care, I may not like Emma right now, but she still belongs to Ice.
"Well listen to you, Miss Feisty Pants," he says and begins to laugh. "I've been called many things, and most of them are true. I've never been called Mr. Saintero. Call me Sainte."
"Well, whatever you call yourself, Emma is off-limits." I turn and walk back into the kitchen, calling behind me, "Dinner will be ready in five minutes."
