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Zariah Donati did not cry over a stupid guy.
Reminding myself of that fact didn’t ease the sick knot in my stomach. Or the pressure in my chest that reminded me I missed Nolan like an amputated limb.
Pausing in the corridor several yards from my apartment door, I started angrily typing.
Me:Hey, ballplayer. What the fuck is going on? Are you so high on your own talent that you can’t text me a simple “ILY”? Stop being an asshole.
I’d barely hit send when I heard someone loudly clear their throat. My head snapped up even as my eyes narrowed, already angry at being interrupted from bitching at my boyfriend—if he was still actually my boyfriend. I decided then and there, if Nolan didn’t text me back in the next five minutes, it was over.
But while the decision popped into my head, I was taking in the person who was standing in my hallway. Tall, with shoulders that had once been just as wide as his son’s currently were. His dark hair was streaked with gray, mixing in with the espresso and chocolate locks identical to Nolan’s. His eyes were just like my boyfriend’s too, that caramel center with the rich coffee color swirling around the outer rims. Only, where Nolan’s were clear, Joel’s were slightly bloodshot and full of a loathing his son had never looked at me with during the entire time I’d known him.
“Miss Donati, I presume?” His voice was rough, and I remembered Nolan telling me his dad was a two-pack-a-day smoker. From the size of his beer gut, I figured he went a little heavy on the booze too.
I didn’t like the way he practically spat my name. The fact that I wanted to marry this man’s son was no reason to show him respect if he wasn’t going to return it. Respect went a long way in my world, but it seemed this asshole hadn’t gotten that memo. “Mr. Krenshaw,” I bit out. “What are you doing here?”
Then a shot of fear flooded my veins, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh my God! Is Nolan okay?” Was that why he hadn’t texted me? Had something happened to the man I loved?
“Nolan is currently pitching a no-hitter in Nashville,” Joel informed me.
Relief made me dizzy for a moment, and I had to suck in a deep breath to steady myself before reality hit me. Nolan was okay. He was in Nashville. Hadn’t texted me in days. And now, his father was standing in front of my apartment. Waiting on me.
Suddenly, I knew I had to steady myself for an entirely different reason than the one from only moments before. Glancing at the closed doors of my neighbors, I pulled my keys from my bag and forced all parts of my body not to noticeably tremble as I walked the rest of the distance to my apartment. Joel stepped back while I unlocked the door and then stepped inside, leaving the door open for him to follow me inside—or not.
The door shut behind him, and I turned to face the older version of the man I was in love with. This close, I could see the subtle differences between the two of them. The shapes of their faces weren’t the same, and the dimple in Joel’s chin was more prominent than his son’s—which was sexy as hell on Nolan. Joel’s ball-chin, not so much. The shapes of their eyes were different, and the younger Krenshaw had lashes that many would call beautiful, whereas Joel barely had any, but the crow's-feet around them were deep and aged him hard. Their noses weren’t the same either, and for that, I was oddly grateful.
When Nolan slept in my bed, I spent hours tracing my index finger down his sharp nose, something that, strangely, soothed us both.
Tossing my things on the side table near the couch, I crossed my arms over my chest and met Joel’s gaze. There was a gun taped to the underside of that table and others positioned throughout my apartment. Remembering that eased some of the discomfort I felt having this man in my personal space. “If Nolan is okay, then why are you here?”
He didn’t immediately answer, just ran his gaze over my living room. Clocking the expensive artwork my mother and aunts had decorated the apartment with. I’d let them have free rein over the place. They had done a beautiful job and made the place feel like me, while giving me a taste of being back in the mansion at the compound.
I doubted Joel knew exactly who I was. He’d spent the last decade living in Boston, where anotherdoncontrolled the city. ButZioCristiano was over the man just as he was every otherdonfrom the East Coast to Chicago to the West Coast. But the man standing in front of me most likely didn’t know that. Not when my family had spent the last twenty years trying to make the majority of their businesses legit.
But while he might not know he was standing in front of a mafioso princess, hedidrealize he was in the presence of someone who came from money. Everyone knew that the Donati and Vitucci families were billionaires. These days, we made covers ofForbesand other business magazines, rather than being listed as the crime family that was responsible for anyone mysteriously going missing. We’d just spent a lot of time burying the truth about how all those billions had been obtained.
Once he was done greedily mentally calculating how much everything cost, he pulled out a phone and turned the screen to face me. When I saw what he wanted to show me, I nearly threw up. The world began to spin, but I couldn’t faint. Not in front of this vulture.
“H-how did you get that?” I demanded, cursing myself for how my voice had cracked, telling him loud and clear just how upset the sight of those pictures made me.
“My son gave it to me before leaving Sunday night.” The world shifted, and I had to suck in a quick, deep breath before I passed out.
No, I couldn’t believe that. Nolan would never do that to me. Never!
“But I think your question should be, how much will it cost to keep these photos from showing up on the front page of every tabloid from here to New York City,” he countered, flipping his thumb over the screen without looking, showing me that he had not one, butallof the pictures I’d sent to my boyfriend.
Of me.
In just my bra and panties.
Topless.
Naked.
It was very obvious that it was me. Not only was my face showing, but so was the birthmark on my shoulder, just a simple misshapen square. Another on my hip, this one looking more like an upside-down heart, was on full display. Not many people knew about those birthmarks, but my parents did.
And if those pictures got out—if Ciro and Scarlett Donati saw them—there was no way of knowing what kind of mayhem would ensue. Losing my freedom, the apartment, the ability to come and go as I pleased without the security detail; those all would be a thing of the past. The fact that whoever had dared to sell and post those pictures would end up in the Hudson as fish food…that really didn’t enter my mind, not when I was so desperate to hold on to the freedom I’d so rarely gotten a taste of during my life.
A feeling of utter betrayal and heartbreak lingered, just under the surface, but I didn’t have time to focus on any of that. The only person who had those pictures was Nolan, but I couldn’t let that affect me yet. There would be time later to fall apart over what he’d done to me. First, I had to stop Joel Krenshaw from ruining everything I’d worked so damn hard for.
Stupid, I chastised myself.How could you be so stupid to send pictures like that to anyone?
That I’d loved Nolan, had thought he would never do anything to hurt me, never betray me, had given me a false sense of security. I’d put my heart and trust in someone it was now glaringly obvious I never should have.
Fighting the urge to vomit, I steeled my spine and negotiated the biggest deal of my life.
And two days later, as I handed over the five million dollars in cash to the bastard who wanted me out of his son’s life, I still hadn’t heard a word from Nolan.
