“When I was out of the country dealing with your sorry ass, Alessandro managed to get a letter into my house for Chiara. I discovered it with the dry-cleaning she left on my bed when Iwas away for work. She didn’t realize she had dropped it and forgot all about it. I asked her about it, skeptical that a letter with no address details for her made it into my house. It was hand-delivered, meaning it had to be someone close enough to know my information and that she’s living with me. She suspected it was an invite from Evie to an event.”
“Right,” says AJ.
“Wrong. She had me open it, concerned she’d missed the RSVP for this supposed event, and imagine my fucking surprise to find a letter from Alessandro along with a SIM card for her to communicate with him and the promise of telling her the truth about her parents’ death.”
“Fuuuccckkk. You didn’t show her the letter?”
“No fucking way,” I say. “I brought a burner phone and put the SIM in it. I’ve been pretending to be her.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Yes and no. He first turned up in L.A. when she was there for work with Marco before he got shot,” I say. “From his letter and texts, I know he ambushed her at work that day before she came to La Rosa to meet you and Julian, and she told him to back off.”
“Fucking hell! And I’m only hearing about this now!” he says, slamming his glass down.
I feel his anger. Unease that she still hasn’t told me herself eats at me, but I push it away so I can continue looping in the one person with the means to deal with Alessandro.
“She doesn’t know that I know he ambushed her in New York…and for some reason she hasn’t told me herself,” I admit. “But I had to tell her I was communicating with someone on the burner phone because it was buzzing incessantly in my pocket the other day when she was in my office and she felt it. She gathered by the shape of it what it was and asked me point blank why I had a burner.”
“I should shoot you point blank for keeping this from me,” he growls, probably only half joking.
He pours himself what is probably a six-hundred-dollar double nip of scotch and shoots it back, wincing as it goes down.
“One: What was she fucking doing close enough to your lap to feel it vibrate. Actually, I don’t want to know. Nothing fake about the fact she’s your fucking vice now, brother.”
He’s not wrong. She’s my vice. My chaos. My calm. The one who put the beat back in my heart.
“Two: Word for word, tell me what you said.”
“I told her that it was an anonymous source who came forward with information on Marco’s shooter. But you better get me on the same page—what does this motherfucker Alessandro know, because he’s getting more desperate in his messages with each refusal to meet him.” I return his stare with a stone-faced one of my own. “AJ…” I pause because I really hope there’s no fucking truth to what I’m about to divulge. “He’s been saying that you lied to Chiara. That you played a part in her parents’ death. You need to be fucking real with me. What are you not telling me?”
He doesn’t have a chance to say it with words, but his face now drained of color does a telling job.
“There you two are,” beams Chiara, sidling up to me, nuzzling into my side.“Why are you two here holding up the bar like a couple of old men,” she says, smiling at me mischievously. “Especially when you can be down there grinding with the young ones.”
I was never one for public displays of affection, but there’s no point denying, least of all to myself, that my dislike has firmly turned into a hard-like. I pull Chiara in and wrap my arms around her petite body, and she lifts her head, pursing cherry-red lips, waiting for a kiss. Her face is slightly flushed from dancing, and her eyes twinkle with genuine happiness. Myheart swells and aches simultaneously seeing her lit up like this. There’s little doubt in my mind that Alessandro’s revelation will completely shatter her. Whatever it takes, I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.
“Are you going to leave lipstick all over my lips?” I ask, hovering mine just above hers.
“I mean, I can leave it all over something else if you prefer,” she whispers, waggling her eyebrows.
“Okay, I’m out. Way too many visuals I don’t need,” says AJ, regaining his composure. “I’m going to go and find the happy couple to give them their engagement present.”
He gives me a small nod, his imploring expression a warning and a plea. Then he’s gone and it’s just me and her, and I’m still none the wiser about what Alessandro has that could dampen the light of a woman who’s become the bright spot in each and every one of my days. I watch as he goes and look down to see Chiara staring after him, too.
“Did it seem like he was acting strange?” Chiara asks me, eyebrows furrowed like she’s trying to figure out what it could be. “Did you tell him about the burner phone and anonymous tip?” she asks me, trepidation swirling in her eyes.
“Yeah, I mentioned it,” I say because technically it’s true. “I guess he’s trying to piece it all together like I am.”
“I just hope poor Marco can put it all behind him soon. At least he’s got the wedding to look forward to,” she says, looping her arms around my neck. “Come on husband,” she murmurs. “Let’s hit the dance floor. You might be old, but I’m too young and look too hot in this mini dress to be hiding up here,” she says with a wink.
I let her lead me towards the dance floor and bring her flush to my body as the tempo of the music turns slower.
“Did you plan this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and giving her a playful smirk. She runs her hands over my chest and around my neck as she gazes up at me with a soft smile.
“Well I know you like to do things backwards,” she jokes before turning bashful. “And if my memory serves, we never did get to have a first dance. So I might have made a song request.”
“You’re never going to let me live it down are you?” I joke, running my hands through her hair and tugging it gently to the side to expose her neck, kissing my way up. My inhibitions are looser than usual in a public setting. Maybe the scotch hit more than I expected.
