Carlo
I sit in the parking lot at Swank the next evening and look at the texts from Summer I’ve left unanswered. I haven’t brought her things by yet-not because I’m not sure but because I can’t see her yet. Especially not if she cries and tries to change my mind.
I’d do anything for her, but I’m not going to cage her into something when she isn’t ready.
I want her love, and her heart is still tied up with the coglione John.
Can we talk?
Carlo?
I’m so sorry about last night. I really want to tell you in person.
I believe she’s sorry. I’m sure she’s upset thinking I’m mad. She’s a pleaser, so it probably bothers her that I haven’t answered.
I’m not trying to be a dick-I just haven’t figured out what to say. I’m too raw from it all. It’s hard enough to accept she doesn’t share my feelings. I’m sure as hell not ready to sit down and re-hash that fact with her.
It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have moved so fast. I knew she wasn’t ready to dive into a new relationship yet, but the moment I held her in my arms, I was unwilling to let her go. But it’s time to smarten up. Maybe, in time, we can try again. Or maybe she’ll never be interested in a guy like me.
My thumb hovers over the message. Fuck. The dominant in me-the guy who needs to take care of and protect her, even if she doesn’t want me-can’t leave her hanging. I care way too much about her.
No apology necessary, Summer. If you need me, I’ll be there, but as a friend.
I send it and try to ignore the searing pain from my forehead.
She calls immediately. Fuck.
I’m not asshole enough to not take her call. I pick it up.
“Carlo. Thanks for answering. Can we just talk?”
I rub the place in my chest that aches. “Summer…”
“Please?”
“You’re killing me, here.”
“Will you just give me a chance to apologize? I screwed up. I behaved badly at the party and-”
“I can’t do this, Summer,” I interrupt. “I appreciate the apology, but it doesn’t change the situation. The thing is”-I scrub my unshaven face with my hand-“my feelings for you are too real. Summer, I-” I stop, shaking my head. Am I really going to tell her this?
Fuck it.
“This wasn’t a new thing for me, cara. I’ve cared about you for years. I picked the wrong time to show you my feelings. You’re not in a position to accept them now. It’s okay. Maybe we can try again in the future.”
“I’m ready to try again now,” she pleads. “I’m over John, I swear-”
The squeezing in my chest worsens. I can’t do this. “Let’s give it some time. We both need some time.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Summer.” I put a little dominance in her name, and she sucks in a breath. “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.”
“Yeah, okay.” I hear tears in her voice, and I want to throw myself over a blade.
I never in a million years wanted to hurt her. Never thought I’d give her up once she pledged to be mine.
But the thing is, she isn’t really mine. I don’t want her heart borrowed from her stronzo ex. I don’t want to be her back-up plan.
I want Summer, but I want all of her.
Heart, body and soul.
I sit in my car for a long moment then force myself to open the door and get out.
I go inside to lick my wounds over a few drinks.
Sonny’s in the rear of the club where Joey recently installed a pool table for us, and we play a few rounds of pool. Normally I clean the table before the other guy ever takes a turn, but tonight, Sonny wins all three games.
“Something bothering you, boss?”
I shake my head, even though we both know my denial is a lie. Funny how three weeks with Summer changed everything for me. Despite the familiar surroundings and people, I feel as unmoored as I did that night Mario put a hit on me. I lost my home country, my family, my position that night.
I thought I found a new one here. The LaTorres fulfilled my need to belong, and I worked hard to secure my position.
Made myself indispensable to the don. Planned to marry his daughter to solidify things.
I craved Summer then, but it wasn’t just the gorgeous young woman who was only seventeentoo young for me to even think of touching. It was what she represented. A secure place at the table. Permanency. A future.
Joey stepping back as next in line for the throne made my place even more secure. Made this imagined future even more attainable. And then Summer offering herself up to me on a platter?
Well, I just couldn’t resist.
But now, I see that I jumped the gun. I did everything backwards. Leaping into a scorching sexual relationship with her before I ever took her on a date. Not getting the don’s permission.
Not waiting until her broken heart over her ex had mended.
Now, as I toss back another Tanqueray and tonic, I’ve never felt so disconnected or alone. I’m not an American, not like them. I’m not actual family-at least not a blood relation-to any of them.
Summer complained she didn’t know me, and I suppose it’s true. No one here really understands me. Hell, do I even know myself?
“Want to play another game?” Sonny stands beside me, rubbing chalk on the tip of his pool cue.
“Nah.”
“Oh shit…”
My gaze shoots up to follow Sonny’s. Alexei’s walking toward me with purpose. He looks high and furious as hell.
Sonny and I both palm our guns. Alexei would’ve been patted down for a gun by security at the door, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one hidden somewhere. The moment he arrives, the Russian cocks his fist and lets it fly.
I block and deliver an uppercut to the gut. The Russian doubles over. Sonny presses the barrel of his gun behind the guy’s ear.
“Walk to the back. Al doesn’t like any scenes in here.” We frog march the guy straight out the back door to the alleyway where Sonny and I let him go. “What the fuck?”
Alexei lunges for me again. Sonny follows, keeping his gun pressed to the guy’s head. The Russian’s pupils are tiny dots, his face unnaturally pale. The guy must’ve snorted five lines. He wraps his fist in my shirt. “Where is she?”
“Who, the girl?”
“Of course, the girl. Where is she? I need her back.”
“You’re not getting her back. She was mine, and I got rid of her. End of story.”
“You gave her to the cops.” He spits a little as he rasps in his thick Russian accent.
“Fuck you. Why would I give her to the cops, asshole? I used her, I sent her on her way. If the cops picked her up, that’s not on me.”
Alexei’s eyes narrow to slits, and his breath hisses in and out of his nose. A bit of saliva gathers at the corner of his mouth. He says something in Russian that is obviously a string of insults.
I punch him in the stomach again. Sonny smacks the handle of his gun against the Russian’s head.
“Get the fuck out of here. If I see your face here or at my game again, you’re a dead man.” I punch him one more time.
The guy crumples a little, but the drugs keep him from feeling much. We leave him in the alleyway and lock the door, letting Leo, the security guard know to never let him in again.
“He’s gonna be trouble,” Sonny warns as we walk toward Joey’s office. “We shoulda capped him.”
My nape prickles. Sonny’s probably right. We haven’t seen the last of the Russian.
We walk to the office in the back and tap on the door.
“Come in.”
Cigar smoke fills the room, and Don Al sits in Joey’s leather captain’s chair, puffing on a cigar. Pauly, Bobby and Vince all lounge around, shooting the shit with him. Joey must be home with Sophie.
I plan on filling Al in on the situation with Alexei, but not when they’re all lounging around like this.
“Hey guys.” I accept the handshakes from the other men.
“Ah, here’s the guy who’s been keeping secrets.” Vince’s been drinking. He always had a bone to pick with me, acting like I don’t deserve the position I have. He seems to think he ought to be in my shoes. But he’s not that bright and makes bad decisions. Consistently. So even though he’s family, he hasn’t risen in the organization.
“What secrets?” Al’s gaze is sharp.
I shrug. The only thing on my mind is the crazy fucking Russian and forgetting about Summer.
“Why don’t you tell him?”
My lip curls. I’m not in the mood for one of Vince’s challenges tonight. Hell, I’d gladly flatten the bastard. “Tell him what?”
“That you’re fucking his daughter.”
Oh, hell no.
Rage turns my vision to red. Nobody disrespects Summer like that. My body springs into action before thought even registers my decision. Our bodies crash to the floor with a thud, my fist smashing into Vince’s face. “You don’t ever talk about her that way,” I growl through clenched teeth. I deliver another punch to Vince’s jaw twice before I catch a blow to the mouth that busts my lip.
“Get him off.” Don Al’s tone holds heat. Which I guess is better than frost.
Pauly and Bobby haul me up and hold my arms, lifting me to face the Don.
Al walks around from behind the desk, his face a mask of anger. “Is that true?”
I yank my arm out of Pauly’s grasp and wipe blood from my chin with the back of his hand. “I’m not fucking her. We were…” What? What can I possibly say that will keep the don from shooting me?
Al grips my shirt in his fist and yanks me close, his fist cocked. “You were what?”
“I’m in love with her.” I sound like a pansy in front of the guys, but nothing less than the truth is worth uttering to Al about Summer.
Al’s fist flies, and I let it land without dodging or defending myself because he’s the don. Pain explodes in my eye, and I see stars as I slam back into the wall.
“You don’t take from me.” Al’s still up in my face. “You don’t take from me without asking first.”
I close my eyes, weariness overcoming me.
“Look at me.” Al’s still fisting my shirt.
I open my eyes, not lifting my head from the wall. “It’s over. It’s over, anyway.” Not that it matters to Al. A betrayal is a betrayal, I suppose. Al’s right. I should’ve asked first. I was a fucking idiot.
Al’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck do you mean, it’s over?”
“I mean, I made a play for her, and it failed. She doesn’t want me. She’s still hung up on her ex. End of story.”
Al’s fingers ease from his shirt, and he steps back. He shakes his head. “Get out of my sight.”
My brain shuts off completely. Numbly, I walk to the door and exit, not looking back. Am I permanently dismissed, or does Al just need time to cool down? How ironic that I originally wanted Summer to solidify my position in the Family, but touching her is what cost me everything.
And more ironic? I don’t even care.
It must be my bludgeoned heart because I can’t even muster a reaction to it. I wouldn’t care if Al sent the guys out to cap me in the parking lot.
I just really didn’t give a shit anymore.