“Please tell me you fucked her at least,” Arturo said.
“Watch your goddamn mouth,” I hissed back at him, then continued past and turned the corner into my room. I walked over to my dresser and started to pull out some different clothes to wear, and I rolled my eyes when I heard footsteps enter my room. “Did you need something?” I asked without turning around.
“Ash, what is this?” Arturo asked. “Are you just after getting into her pants? Do you have some bigger plan at work? I don’t get it. We barely know her.”
I stood up and walked over to the door leading into my bathroom. “Youbarely know her. While you were busy hating her for no goddamn reason, I was actually getting to know her, and she’s different from anyone I’ve ever known. She’s special.”
“Is she worth getting your head blown off over?” Arturo asked. There was no malice in his voice. It was a genuine question. “Dad’s not fucking around anymore, Ash. He wants to end this rivalry with Illiana, and he wants it to end with her head on his wall. If your little pet gets in the way of that, he’s not going to give her another chance—or you. You know he’s ruthless. He’ll make you do it.”
It was unsettling, looking at a reflection of myself in Arturo. It was like my dark side warning me instead of my brother.
“What’s the point of telling me this?” I asked. “I know that you don’t really give women the time of day, but is it really such a bad thing that I found one that I like and want to protect?”
“Getting attached to people is a waste of time. It makes you weak.”
“It doesn’t. It’s not wrong to love people.”
“You put your own fucking head in front of a pistol full of bullets. The thing that should matter to you most should be your own life. What if he had pulled the trigger?” Arturo asked. “He could have blown your brains out and still killed her.”
My neck cracked as I twisted my head to the side. “I’ve got work to do, Arturo,” I said, and with that, I walked into my bathroom and slammed the door behind me.
My stomach started to churn. Nothing Arturo said was wrong. Denise was in a bad place, but if she couldn’t pull it together enough to deal with my dad, neither of us was gonna live long enough to see that sunset in California. I took a quick shower and changed, and fortunately, Arturo was gone when I left my room. After packing a few things up in a bag, I walked back down to the guest room to collect Denise. We were quick to leave the Carducci manor behind, and when we were finally in the car on the highway up to the safe house, Denise seemed to feel a little better. She pulled her legs up to her chest as we drove, and it made me think of that relaxed, happy woman from my dreams. I’d love to make that a reality for her one day.
After about twenty minutes on the road, Denise’s phone rang. She lifted it out of her lap, silenced it, and then dropped it back down. I didn’t ask at first, but then it happened two more times, and I finally had to inquire.
“A stalker you’re trying to avoid?” I asked.
“It’s my mom,” I said.
My heart dropped into my stomach. Had she caught on already? “Illiana’s contacting you?”
“Huh?” Denise’s brow furrowed before recognition registered on her face. “Oh. No. Renee Binachi, my step-mom. She’s been calling me, and I know she wants to talk about what happened with Dario. I don’t know what to say.”
“She actually took care of you, right?” I asked. “Back when you were growing up.”
Denise nodded. “Yeah. She was the only one of them that was good to me.”
“My mom, she loves Calli like her own. If she lost me, Art, and my dad, and then Callista ghosted, it’d probably kill her.”
Denise glared at me. “Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“No, I’m telling you to talk to her.” Denise looked hesitant, and I scoffed. “You’re on the phone in a different state. If things get super crazy, you could just hang up. Just give her a chance.” Almost on cue, the phone rang again. Denise lifted it from her lap and looked at it. “Is it her?” She nodded. I reached over, snatched the phone, answered it, and handed it back. “Talk.”
“Hello?” a voice called from the other side of the phone. I assumed it was Renee. “Denise?”
“Hey, Mama,” Denise replied.
“Oh, Denise.” Relief and desperation were thick in her voice. “Where are you? Your brother is dead. Are you okay?”
Denise’s jaw draped. She didn’t even consider that Renee was unaware of Denise’s involvement, but once I thought about it. Howwouldshe know? The only ones who knew the truth about what happened with Dario and Denise were my family, Denise, and the now in-the-wind Varassos.
“I’m okay,” Denise said, and a few seconds later, tears were rolling down her face. “I’m in Chicago.”
“What are you doing there?” she asked. “I’ve been worried sick about you. Please come home.”
“I was scared, so I left,” Denise lied. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t think I can come home.”
“Why?” She sniffled, and it was clear that she was crying too. “You’re all I have left, Denise.”
