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I hold out a hand, but Jeanne ignores it and throws her arms around me instead. “You look good Olivia,” she murmurs.
“You mean, despite the scar on my cheek?”
She leans back in the circle of my arms and scowls at me. “Don’t put yourself down, you know better than that.”
Color flushes my cheeks, and I glance away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s all right. I know how rough things must have been for you. Where have you been, woman? You moved out of the apartment without informing Penny, and you haven’t returned any of our calls, either. Do you know how worried we’ve been about you?”
My guts twist.Shit, shit, shit.Of course, they’ve been worried about me. They’re my best friends.
“I’m sorry, Jeanne. It’s just... You know, there was so much happening. It was all too much. It’s not every day one is shot at on stage and ends up getting scarred, you know?”
“Oh, Olivia, I wish you’d given me and Penny a chance to be there for you. We’d have done anything to share your pain, babe.”
The band around my chest tightens. Tears press down at the backs of my eyes and I blink them away. “I’m a bad friend. I shouldn’t have left the way I did, I know. I’m so sorry, Jeanne.”
“No more keeping secrets from us now Olivia, okay?”
I nod.
“And that includes whatever is going on between you and Massimo.”
“There’s nothing between me and—”
She shakes her head. “I know he proposed to you and you turned him down,” she interjects.
My gaze widens. “How do you—your husband... Luca told you?”
Jeanne nods. I glance away, then back at her. “There’s nothing more to tell you. I told him I wasn’t going to marry him, and now, he’s engaged to my sister.” My chin wobbles, belying my protest.
“Oh, Olivia, honey...” Jeanne takes a step in my direction, but I put up a hand. “I really have to go, Jeanne.” I swallow down my tears. “I promise, I’ll call you.”
The door at the top of the steps opens. I glance up just as Massimo steps out. My heart slams into my ribcage. My guts churn. I turn to my friend. “I’m sorry, Jeanne. I really have to go.”
Tearing off my heels, I race past the other cars and reach my own. Luckily for me, I’m in a good position to get out of there quickly, since I arrived last. As I open the door, I hear Massimo calling my name. I ignore him as I get into my car, slam the door, and peel out.
22
Massimo
Let her go, let her the fuck go. What are you doing following her?I saw her leave and rose to my feet. Michael stared at me, and I knew he wasn’t pleased. But I risked a glance at her face as she’d passed and saw the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. My heart contracted, and my stomach tied itself in knots. I had to follow her to make sure she got to where she was going safely.
Maybe she’s going to meet her boyfriend, the one she’s in love with.
Jealousy sliced through my veins, and I nearly unbalanced my chair as I pushed it back. I needed to see where she went, and if that meant I was acting like an unbalanced stalker, so be it. Once I made sure she reached her destination safely, I’d leave. I’d return home, to my life, to my fiancée. I wince.
Fuck.I haven’t spoken a single word to her. Couldn’t bring myself to look her in the face. Not when my mind is filled with thoughts of her sister. Something I needed to purge myself of before I upset everything. The eyes of everyone in that room were on me as I walked out. Not that anyone would stop me.
I'm the soon-to-be son-in-law for theCamorra,after all. The key to them acquiring a lot more power overnight. My actions won’t be questioned by them. And if my fiancée thinks it’s strange, she’ll keep her thoughts to herself. No, it’s my brothers whose disapproval I felt keenly as I walked out of there and to my bike, just in time to see her vehicle disappear down the driveway. I managed to follow her without losing sight of her Porsche. The woman has style and guts, and she drives bloody fast.
I accelerate, and my Harley leaps forward. It was a last-minute thought to jump on my bike today. Probably the thought of being chained to a woman—one I don’t know at all—for life prompted it. Either way, now it serves me well as I weave in between the cars, keeping her in my sights. I’m sure she’s spotted me, but fuck that. She knows I’m pissed at her and I need to—have to—settle whatever it is between us so I can move on with my fucking life.
She drives through the town and keeps going until she reaches a bar at the edge of the city. I frown as she parks the car and strides in. What the hell is she doing here? Doesn’t she know it’s dangerous for her to be here alone?
I park my bike, hook my helmet on the handle—no motherfucker would dare touch what belongs to theCosa Nostra, not even here—and walk inside the establishment.
The smell of alcohol, sweat, and stale, unwashed bodies fills the air. It’s gloomy, and at this time of the afternoon, not crowded. My gaze alights on her instantly. She’s a flash of light, a beacon in the dark sky, my very own Bat-Signal calling to me as she leans into the bar and orders a drink. I stalk over to the bar, making sure to keep enough distance between us. I order a whiskey, nurse it as she knocks back a shot of tequila, and another. She reaches for the third, and finally slows. She places the small bag dangling from her wrist on the bar and bows her head. If she’s waiting for someone, I can’t tell. If she knows I’m here, she’s doing a hell of a job hiding it. I watch her as she stares into the depths of her glass.
