Though I’m sure he brought her into my home with the express purpose of trying to date her, that’s not the way things worked out. Marlena made it very clear to me that she doesn’t think about Frankie that way. Me, on the other hand, that’s a whole different story. I can’t forget that kiss or the way she melted into me on the dance floor. That woman wants what I want, she just can’t admit it yet, not that I’ve admitted it out loud either.
So I’ll take my time. I’ll make sure she feels safe. But no matter what Giovanni thinks, I’m not locking myself into a life of celibacy. With or without Frankie’s blessings, I’m going to be happy. Because Marlena is perfect for me, and I’m sure that with a little time, she’ll realize that I’m perfect for her as well.
I stop by the kitchen to get myself another drink before going back to work. I need it now that I’ve alienated my entire family. The thought that Marlena is somewhere in the house gives me pause. I’m going to have to start behaving like a married man instead of a bachelor. It’s a sobering consideration, and I set the bottle of wine down without opening it.
The bodyguards have vanished, moving on to complete their rounds. They circle the house every few hours, searching for intruders. We’re safe here. Marlena is safe here. And Frankie, even though he’s mad at me, is safe.
I decide to deal with the cigarette thing tomorrow morning. For the moment, I’m beat. I go up to my room, pausing on the landing to glance down at Marlena’s suite. The man guarding her room looks up but then quickly looks away, giving me my privacy.
I sigh with contentment. I don’t care what mountains I have to move. I’m just happy to have her with me. I walk over to my side of the hallway and enter my room. Pulling my suit jacket off, I carefully remove my clothes. I sleep in sweatpants and a sports shirt, not business attire, but not pajamas either. I need to be ready for action in the middle of the night if all hell breaks loose. So, I dress as I would like to appear during a gunfight, in comfortable, breathable attire that commands respect even though it’s not a three-piece suit.
I’ve just settled down to sleep when I’m interrupted by a horrible sound. A scream rips through the night, and it can only be one person, Marlena.
CHAPTER 21
MARLENA
Ican see my father clearly. He’s standing at the edge of a pier, and I’m running toward him. I reach out, but the closer I get, the further away I am.
I see someone with a knife approaching him. I can’t make out the attacker’s face. It seems familiar, and I wonder if I can just rip off the veil covering his features, if I’ll be able to recognize him.
He takes a swing at my father, but instead of fighting back, my father just stands there. As I watch, the man with the knife beats him into the ground. Then he straddles my father’s body and starts stabbing away.
I scream. No matter what I do, I can’t get to him. It feels like my hands are tied, and I’m forced to watch from the sidelines. When the police showed me that photo of my father’s head, I knew it was bad. But this is worse, much worse. Now that I know who was responsible and why, my imagination fills in the details. I feel like I’m living a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
There’s something on my chest that feels like a weight holding me down. My arms are immobile, like I’m chained. I stand at the edge of the pier, watching my father’s murder, helpless to stop it.
“Marlena,” someone whispers.
I thrash about, struggling against the chains holding me down.
“Marlena,” comes that voice again, calm and reassuring.
I open my eyes, gasping for air, stunned to find myself in bed. There is no pier, and my father is gone. It was only in my mind. The room is dark, but I know instantly where I am. I’m in Francisco’s house, in the fancy suite he gave me just down the hall from his own.
I panic, not knowing who is talking to me. I don’t want anyone to see me in bed, or to witness how crazy I’m acting. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Francisco who’s come to my rescue.
“Easy,” he says, stroking my hair. “You were having a bad dream.”
I exhale, relaxing into the sensations. He may have seen me, but he’s not judging me. I suffer through a pinprick of anxiety when I remember our agreement not to have sex. He shouldn’t be in my bedroom so late at night. It’s not conducive to a platonic relationship.
But I toss that thought away as soon as it comes. I’m desperate, I’m shaken, and I need a friend.
I sit up and throw my arms around him. I don’t care if this is beyond the scope of our arrangement. I can feel my heartbeat slowing. The drama of the nightmare scene is retreating. I’m in the real world, and Francisco is doing everything in his power to keep me safe.
He is caught off guard by the ferocity of my need. He teeters on the edge of the bed and has to sit up for a second before rejoining me. I inch away, giving him space to sit down, and then I fall right back into his arms.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks, holding me tight.
“It was my father,” I gasp. “I saw him being murdered.”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’m right here. I won’t let that happen to you.”
I settle down, realizing that is what I’m worried about. Call me selfish, but I know my father is already dead. I don’t want to go through what he did. I don’t want my father’s enemies to torture me.
It takes me a long time to relax. If Francisco hadn’t been there, I’m sure I would have been up wandering the halls. But he’s just so solid and real, I can’t imagine having nightmares while he’s around.
I give up worrying about the optics of sharing the bed. He’s not making a move on me, so it doesn’t really count. He’s just holding me, gesturing that he cares. I appreciate it more than he can possibly know.
