“Your punishment for the moment will be not knowing when or where I’m going to take my revenge,” he says, stepping close so that I can feel the hatred in his words. “I loved you,” he says roughly. “I was honest about that.”
“I know,” I reply sadly.
He shakes his head, looking down at me from the moral high ground. “Give me back my father’s ledger.”
I open my mouth to deny the fact that I have it, but I can see there’s no point. I pull it out of my pocket and hand it over. “I haven’t managed to decode any of the entries,” I tell him. I’m not sure why it’s important to me to let him know that I don’t have proof. Maybe I’m suffering from some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, and I’ve fallen in love with the wrong person.
I tell myself that’s absurd. I’m not in love with Frankie. Yet, in that moment, I would do anything to erase the harm I’ve caused.
“I don’t know if that’s the truth or not,” he says, nailing one final insult into my self-made coffin.
He opens the door, putting his back to me for the last time. I watch him go to the elevator and push the button. There’s nothing I can do to stop him, and nothing I can say that will make a bit of difference.
Now, on top of the grief I experienced in losing my brother, I have another heavy burden to bear. I’ve hurt Frankie worse than I could have imagined. It might take him a long time to recover to the point where he can express love again, to trust again, and it’s all my fault.
I press my eyes shut, hoping to stop the tears from falling. When I open them again, he’s gone. I try to pick up the pieces of my desperate plan, but find that I have no strength anymore. I sit down on one of the chairs in the conference room and put my head in my hands. I didn’t think there was anything worse than being murdered and dumped in a shallow grave, but this feeling might be in the running. It seems like the whole world is shattering around me, and I have no one to blame for it but myself.
CHAPTER 29
FRANKIE
Iwalk out of the conference room with my head held high. All the way to the elevator, I’m feeling pretty good about myself. It gives me a sense of power to know that Sofia’s afraid. But as soon as the elevator doors close and I’m alone with my thoughts, I begin to reconsider.
Real men don’t make the women in their lives feel afraid. If I was actually in love with her, I would have been more focused on solutions and less on throwing my weight around. I know that because I come from a mafia family, I can intimidate people. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let anything bad happen to her.
She hurt me. And that was really all I could focus on. But now, in the cold light of day, I wish I had picked a better course. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here. Simply knowing that she’ll be watching over her shoulder seemed to address my concerns, at first.
I know that what I’ve done to her is worse than anything my father could dream up. Breaking kneecaps or smashing windows only serves to bring pain and destruction. Whereas I unleashed hell on Sofia that only she can truly comprehend.
I wonder if she’ll be able to sleep at night. Will she pick up and go somewhere else to escape from me? Will she continue her project, knowing that it could result in her death? I’m not sure. Half of me hopes that she’s able to pick herself up and brush herself off. She deserves something better, and I don’t want to stand in her way.
Our relationship is over, and I’ve burned that bridge irrevocably, if there ever was a chance of reconciliation. By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor, all my excitement has vanished. I feel horrible.
I walk out the front door to my car and sit in the driver’s seat. Staring out my windshield at Sofia’s office building, I try to sort through the wreckage of my feelings. I need a fresh start. I’m tired of shadowing my father’s operatives. I need something that will wash my soul clean.
With no specific agenda in mind, I pull out of the parking garage and onto the street. I’m making decisions with my subconscious mind at this point. Each turn I take is automatic. I’m not considering my final destination.
I find myself on the freeway, going God knows where. I look at the road signs and step on the gas. The highway takes me out of the city, and I feel a modicum of relief at each passing mile.
One exit looks familiar. I know I’ve taken it several times before. It’s the exit for the university where Marlena’s brother goes. I suppose he would be my uncle-in-law, although technically, he’s a few years younger than I am.
Brandon was kidnapped by Carlo Andretti a couple of years ago, and he never really got over it. My father extended his protection, but Brandon didn’t want it. He didn’t want to goon the run either, electing to continue his studies even though he knew it would be dangerous. So far, Andretti has remained underground. Although, of course, he sent that letter to my father indicating that he’s still around and paying attention.
I decide to pop in on Brandon and see how he’s doing. Maybe I can use the excuse that Andretti has resurfaced to explain what I’m doing there. I don’t really want to go into the specifics of my drama with Sofia. I need time to mull over what happened between us before I’m ready to talk with anyone.
I hope Brandon will be home, and not away on vacation or something. I have his phone number and email address, but I hadn’t decided to visit him until now. By the time I pull over to text him, I’ll already be there. So it looks like I’m just going to show up out of the blue and hope for the best.
Brandon has an apartment near campus with three of his friends. I’ve visited twice before, and I know Marlena disapproves. She wishes that Brandon would let my father pay the bills so he could get a nicer place on his own.
Brandon wasn’t exactly polite when he said that he didn’t want my father’s money. He maintains strained relations with our family, even though we all feel like he’s part of our brood. I pull into the parking lot near his building and shut my engine off. Getting out of the car, I stretch. It’s been a three-hour drive and I’m tired and thirsty. At least I’m not focused on the guilt surrounding Sofia. That’s the point of this whole exercise: to forget about her.
I cross the parking lot and enter the building on the left side. There’s an external stairway that goes up to the second floor. I don’t have a key, but there’s a girl coming out at the samemoment I’m trying to get in. She holds the door open with a smile, and I give her a friendly nod.
People are so accommodating. That’s something my father likes to stress. Most people don’t realize something illegal is going on until it’s too late. I don’t like to take advantage, but there are certain times when I’m pleased that the general public is so trusting. Now is one of those times.
I walk down the hall to locate Brandon’s door. There’s no buzzer, so I knock and wait patiently while whoever’s inside comes to the door.
“Who is it?” someone asks from the apartment.
