“That’s a sad way to look at the world. Some things are for enjoyment. It can even be fun to learn. What about being a criminal has made you so pessimistic in your outlook on the world?”
“I was raised this way,” Frankie said, as if I asked him what color the sky was. “The third born in the long line of wealthy men. Everything is always a test to make sure you stand up to family lines.”
“What did you say your last name was?” Even though Westley didn’t consider himself a traditional family, I knew enough about the Chicago mob to name all the houses. The original Grandmaster started The Chicago Masters decades ago and passed leadership through the family but not blood. You were family by work. Westley joined The Masters at ten and worked his way up the organization. The Masters had no birthrights.
“I don’t believe I gave a last name,” Frankie said, popping another fry in his mouth. “But it’s Zanetti.”
“Never heard of it,” I lied. I never heard of it for a Chicago family, but they were one of the top leaders in New York. Yesterday he mentioned Maine. That was a long way away from the Big Apple and Chicago.
Frankie laughed. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“You really think that highly of yourself? That everyone would recognize who you are?” It had to be a criminal thing. They all thought they were spectacular.
Sometimes Westley fell into the same behavior. At times like that, it was important to bring him down a peg and remind him of the time when Jennifer Roche dumped his sorry ass in high school. Of course, Westley got his revenge. He was now a billionaire running a huge crime network in Chicago, and she gave birth to her fifth child two days after finding out her husband cheated.
She could’ve had it all, but she didn’t see Westley’s potential.
“No, my ego isn’t quite that big, Cara Mia. It’s just that you crinkle your nose when you lie.”
“I do not,” I said, making sure my nose didn’t twitch.
Frankie laughed harder and ate two fries at the same time. “Why are you so loyal to your cousin? He may have put your mother and his up in beautiful homes and paid for your education, but he has you working at one of the seedier establishments in the worst parts of the city and he doesn’t even provide you with a bodyguard, making it easy for someone like me to snatch you up in the middle of the night. You seem much more loyal to him than he is to you.”
My nose crinkled before I answered, and I struggled to get it back in place and look nonchalant. No way was I admitting to the overconfident asshole that I loved working at the bar. It took six months of pleading for him to agree. It was the lowest performing establishment in Westley’s holdings, and I wanted to be the one to make it profitable. I’d also argued relentlessly that I didn’t need a bodyguard.
This situation was completely of my making. And if Frankie knew about my school and where to find my mom, he definitely knew the answer to these questions, so I chose not to lie.
“We’re close because we grew up together. Westley was five when he and his mother moved in with mine. His father abandoned them both. My mom was pregnant with me and needed the extra help. We may only be cousins, but we grew up like siblings. He’s everything to me, and there’s nothing you could say to make me question my loyalty.” I picked at the fabric of the chair.
Frankie lifted an eyebrow and popped another fry into his mouth. I squirmed. I shared something personal and too much, but every word was the truth. My nose never crinkled once. I owed everything to Westley. I’d never trade any of his secrets, as I knew he’d never let Frankie harm me. And after he paid my ransom and ensured my safety, he’d blow up the world to make sure he got his revenge. Then they’d all be sorry.
The truth of my worlds settled into the room, and the air grew heavy. I waited for Frankie to have a snotty comeback or to persuade me to talk against my cousin, but when he spoke again, his words were highly unexpected.
“Would you like to get ice cream for our dessert?”
CHAPTER 5
“You want to get ice cream?” I asked, running my finger over the tough fabric of the white chairs. It somehow managed to be soft and firm at the same time. Obviously expensive. Not that I’d expect anything less in the fancy place.
Frankie stared at me a little too long, as if he read my mind and realized I was having a moment with the chair. Or maybe he tried to figure out if he had to keep repeating himself because I was stupid.
“Yeah,” he finally said.
“Right now?” What world did I live in that I argued over ice cream with my kidnapper? It was bizarre even for me, and one time I came home after my freshman homecoming to find Westley counting out a hundred grand on our dining room table.
Frankie popped a French fry in his mouth and chewed, staring at me like I was the crazy one. “As they say, there’s no time like the present.”
“I’m a kidnap victim.” Did he forget why he stashed me here?
Two more French fries found their way into Frankie’s mouth and I debated reaching out and snatching one from his fingers. But you could never be too sure how someone felt about their food. “You should learn to enjoy the little things regardless of your life situation, Cara Mia.”
That name was really getting annoying. I tightened my lips together, looking like a dehydrated fish. None of what was happening made sense. I wasn’t a girl you kidnapped and offered ice cream. And his comment about enjoying the little things was a bit too much, considering on the grand scheme of things, kidnapping was not a small life experience. Did he expect me to enjoy this?
Yet, I stared at the arrogant man in his perfectly cut suit. This one was a navy color that almost looked black unless the late-afternoon sun hit it just right as it poured in from the windows. Even though I’d just finished my sandwich, ice cream sounded nice. I rarely had time to enjoy the little things.
I wanted to say yes. When was the last time I’d done something even remotely fun with a man? In the first year of my MBA program, one of my classmates asked me out a date, but then he spent the entire evening talking about how he was going to be the next Warren Buffett. I just couldn’t get behind a man with so much arrogance who didn’t back it up with at least a loaded weapon. And Westley wouldn’t let me date any of his guys.
Something was definitely wrong with my life.
