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Carmine glanced toward the kitchen as Lisa repeatedly cursed at him, and he smiled when he spotted Haven watching. Lisa noticed the exchange. “Is she the reason, Carmine? That bitch?”
Carmine’s smile fell. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up right now.”
“I thought you were better than that! Look at her!” Lisa glared at Haven. “How much is Dr. DeMarco paying you to screw his son?”
Her words set Carmine off. He grabbed Lisa’s arm and swung open the front door with so much force it slammed into the wall. He pulled her out to her car while she continued to yell, flailing and trying to strike him, but Carmine ducked out of the way. He yelled back—Haven couldn’t hear him, but she could see his mouth move furiously—and slammed his hands against the hood of her car.
The oven beeped, the cookies done. Haven pulled them out as the front door slammed, rattling things on the kitchen counter. Carmine walked in and paused beside her at the window. “You should have answered it and told her I wasn’t home.”
“I couldn’t. I don’t have a code.”
He looked at her peculiarly as he grabbed one of the peanut butter cookies from the rack. Taking a bite, he turned away. “Eat a cookie, Haven. They’re good.”
* * *
Dr. DeMarco arrived home as Haven was putting the cookies in a container. He walked right to her in the kitchen, stopping so close his arm brushed against hers. Her skin crawled, his presence alarming, and she fought back a shudder.
Dr. DeMarco snatched a cookie before she could put the lid on. “Morning, dolcezza.”
“Good morning, sir.” She paused. “What does that mean?”
“Dolcezza?” He took a bite, smiling kindly. “Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
Dr. DeMarco made a pot of coffee, something Haven hadn’t dared to try since the morning everything went terribly, horribly wrong, and poured a cup before walking out. She brushed the flour from her clothes and finished cleaning before heading into the family room, where everyone had gathered. Carmine glanced at her from the spot he had taken on the couch.
“Dad,” he said, his eyes remaining on her. “I’m gonna teach Haven how to read.”
Fear shot through her. Dr. DeMarco raised his eyebrows. “I assumed to teach someone to read, you’d have to know how.”
Carmine rolled his eyes. “I can read.”
“Yeah,” Dominic interjected. “Didn’t you know? He read the first page of The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Vaffanculo,” Carmine said.
Dr. DeMarco sighed as he turned his attention to Haven. “Take a seat, child.”
She couldn’t tell whether it was an offer or a demand, but it was safer to just do what he said. She took the empty seat beside Carmine, folding her hands in her lap, tense and nervous. Carmine, on the other hand, had his feet casually kicked up on the coffee table as he slouched with boredom.
There was a knock on the door after a while, but no one got up to answer it. They knocked again before the door opened, a female’s voice ringing through the downstairs. “None of you can answer the door for me?”
“Hello, Tess,” Dr. DeMarco said as the girl strolled into the family room. Tess glanced around at all of them, her eyes lingering on Haven for longer than she was comfortable with, before squeezing in the chair with Dominic.
Haven turned to the television and tried to focus on the movie, but Carmine kept inching closer to her, his presence clouding her mind.
“Doc, did your son tell you he beat up Lisa’s car this morning?” Tess asked.
“I hit it once,” Carmine said. “It only left a small dent.”
“Well, you better find a job to pay for that dent,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I’m not forking the bill for you anymore, remember?”
“I shouldn’t have to pay for anything. She deserved it, busting in here like a damn interrogator.”
Those words drew Dr. DeMarco’s attention from the movie. “Why did she interrogate you?”
“She wants a relationship or something.”
