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“I’m not.”
“Of course you are.”
“No. It’s just that—”
“Aria. Listen to yourself. He’s obviously got his own issues or he wouldn’t be the way he is anyway. And I can tell from the look on your face that you know exactly what those issues are. So maybe you should cut him a little slack. I mean, if he really didn’t hurt you. And if you love him like I think you do.”
“It’s only been a week. Of course I don’t—” This time I’m the one to stop myself. Because, yes, it’s only been a week. And yes, it seems crazy that I could fall in love with Sebastian in that short amount of time. But I knew Carlo for years, was engaged to him for eighteen months and nothing he did could make me fall in love with him. What I feel for Sebastian is so much more than I ever felt for Carlo. So much more than I’ve ever felt for anyone. I’ve been miserable without him these last few days, have called in sick because I didn’t trust myself not to go up to his office and beg him for I don’t even know what.
But still. “He scared me, Lucy. He really scared me. Because of how he got with me and because of how I got with him. I wanted to give him everything, did give him everything I had and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted too much.”
She crawls across the bed then, wraps me up in a vanilla scented hug that is way more comforting than it should be, considering I’m the older sister here. “Because he didn’t know about what happened to you, Aria. If he did, I’m sure it would have been different.”
“Are you? Because I’m not.”
“You know, it’s like when I used to go to school. Remember? Before Mom and Dad insisted I stay home and get tutored.”
“Because you got hurt—”
“I know, because I got hurt. But when we were playing tag and Johnny grabbed my wrist, he didn’t mean to hurt me. He didn’t mean to break my arm. He did it because he didn’t know. I didn’t tell him, didn’t tell any of my friends at school about what is wrong with me because I didn’t want them to treat me differently. I didn’t want to be that sick girl that I always am.
“So when Johnny broke my arm, it wasn’t his fault that he hurt me. It was mine. Because I didn’t give him the information he needed not to hurt me. I know Mom and Dad blamed him, but I never did. I couldn’t. Not when by not telling him, I ended up hurting both of us.”
For long seconds, I just stare at my sister as her words reverberate through my head, cutting through the fears I’ve been holding on to for the last three days. Because she’s right. I’ve been blaming Sebastian for what he did even though he doesn’t know about my past. Even though he doesn’t know about who my father is and what being his daughter has meant to me.
And I’ve also been using it to disguise, even from myself, the fact that I’m afraid. Deathly afraid, of telling Sebastian who my family is. Where I come from. Getting him to understand and accept all the shit that went down with Carlo is one thing, getting him to accept the fact that marrying me means he’ll be marrying into the Mafia is very different. Even though I’ve turned my back on my father and everything he stands for, I’m still a part of the family. Still a part of Lucy’s life and I always will be. I can’t turn my back on her and I wouldn’t even if I could.
But how can I expect Sebastian to accept who I am and the responsibilities that come with being me? Especially when I was once engaged to Carlo Valducci, the son of the man responsible for Dylan’s death. How can I possibly expect him to want to have anything to do with me?
Then again, it’s not fair to him that I make the decision for him. That I hide behind my fears instead of giving him a chance to make a choice himself. Maybe he’ll kick me out on my ass, but then again, maybe he won’t. Or maybe I’ll be so fed up with him and his own control issues that I’ll walk away voluntarily.
Whatever happens, I owe it to him to be honest with him. Owe it to myself. Whatever happens after that is going to happen…and since I don’t have a crystal ball, I’m just going to have to take the risk. And pray my heart isn’t completely broken in the process.
Chapter Three
Sebastian
She’s here.
Aria’s here. She just walked out onto the casino floor, dressed in her standard uniform as she stops by first one high roller table and then another, obviously collecting drink orders.
I school my features, try to do my best to look like I’m listening to what Mickey is telling me as I stand in the middle of the Eye, my gaze glued on Aria. On her legs. Her breasts. Her beautiful face
She looks tired. Or maybe I’m just projecting, hoping these last four days have been as miserable for her as they’ve been for me. Or maybe she looks like that because she still hasn’t recovered from the fact that her lover is a callous asshole who mistreated her. Who took and took and took from her, forgetting to give her anything back.
Just thinking about that night makes me furious at myself all over again. But I tamp that anger down before it can get out of control. Before it stops me from doing what I so desperately want to do, which is finding Aria and apologizing to her the way she so obviously deserves. What happens after that is up to her, but I owe her an apology and I am going to deliver it.
As I continue nodding to Mickey, even contributing a few sentences here and there, I go over every apology plan I’ve concocted in the last four days as I waited for a sign from Aria that she was willing to talk to me. As far as signs go, her showing up to do her job isn’t much of one, but at this point, I’ll take it. I’ll take anything she wants to give me.
For a control freak, that’s a hell of a concession and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me nervous as hell. But I don’t care. Some things are worth being nervous over.
I’ve just decided to wait until she goes on break to ask her to come up to my office when one of the asshole whales reaches out and grabs her. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against his side as he says something that is obviously suggestive. And neither the blackjack dealer nor the security guard ten feet away do anything about it.
“Goddamnit!” I turn on Mickey like a crazy man, interrupting her mid-sentence. “How many fucking times have I told you in the last week and a half that I don’t want those bastards touching the waitresses? I’ve made myself perfectly clear on the issue and instead of dealing with it, your security guard is down there standing around with his head up his ass.”
She looks at me wide-eyed. I’ve never talked to her—or any other employee—like that before. But damn it, they know the rules. They know what expectations I have, including the very reasonable (in my opinion) expectation that no one gets assaulted in my casino.
“Everyone knows about your directives, and we’re working on making sure follow-through is at one hundred percent. But we also try to be a little more delicate with the high rollers—”
