by Rose Wulf
She gasped, choking on her voice, and it was several more seconds before she managed to answer his question. “My father … died!”
Chapter Twelve
Arianna wasn’t sure how to feel, even several hours later. She hadn’t tried going back to sleep after her mother’s unexpected phone call and Dean hadn’t pushed. The only thing Dean had been was amazingly supportive. She was so glad she’d been with him when she got the call, instead of in the hotel room she was supposed to be sharing with Georgia.
Hearing her mother’s voice again, for the first time in nearly five years, had been hard enough to take on its own. Gianna Carosella’s voice had been the very last thing she’d expected to hear when she’d answered the phone, and as soon as she’d placed it—because it wasn’t exactly a case of instant recognition—she’d had to fight the urge to hang up. Anger had rushed, hot and immediate, through her system. She’d wanted to interrupt the woman’s words to demand to know who she was to think she could just call out of the blue after abandoning her all those years ago.
And then her mother’s words had registered.
“A stroke.” She’d said in her heavily-accented English. Her father had been claimed by a stroke. It had been quick. Arianna didn’t know if it was his first, or if there had been any signs of warning. For a moment, as her mother continued, she’d gone numb. She was listening to her mother’s voice. Her father was gone. It was almost like she had a family, just for an instant.
It had been that thought that slammed Gianna’s words home. She hadn’t had a family since her brother had been killed. What remnants of a family she’d allowed herself to cling to—her father’s attempt at an apology, an attempt she’d scorned—was gone now, too. Her mother hadn’t been calling to beg her to come to Italy and be with them. She’d been calling “Because he would want you to know.” Arianna knew that was true, just like she knew that was the only reason she’d gotten the call. But that didn’t hurt nearly as badly as the guilt.
All those years she’d been so angry with him. She’d been arguably angrier with him than with her mother. At least her mother had chosen a side and stuck with it. That was how she’d always seen it. Her father was trying to have it both ways. She’d resented him—resented his letters and his guilt money—because she’d seen the gesture as empty. And now … now, she wished she’d forgiven him. It wasn’t realistic to think their actions could have gone differently. There was no sense in going back to the girl who still hoped he’d write her back, and she had even less incentive now to move to Italy than she’d had five years earlier. But she could have forgiven him.
At least he made an effort. He did something to keep in touch. He’d extended some sort of olive branch, in the best way he’d known how. If he hadn’t, or if she’d stopped giving him her contact information in her response letters, she would have gone her entire life without knowing his fate. Now all she could do to repay him and atone for her hateful thoughts was mourn him. She hadn’t found the clarity to forgive him sooner, and the guilt of knowing it had taken something so terrible to make her see the situation properly was crippling. There was really only one thing she could do to make up for it in any kind of way.
“How’s it looking?” Dean asked gently as he reclaimed his seat beside her on the couch.
Arianna jerked her bleary eyes away from the screen of her laptop—recently liberated from the hotel—and did her best to offer him a grateful smile. He’d been scheduled to work, but he’d called in before sunrise and taken the entire day off. He’d even given the person he’d talked to the real reason, which she found oddly sweet. Then he’d gone and called Blake—at a slightly more reasonable hour—asking him to take over her shift for the day, and to talk to her boss for her. He’d completely ignored her trying to tell him that was her responsibility. Now he was letting her take over his apartment. Not to mention soak his shirt with her unpredictable rounds of tears.
“Expensive,” she replied, dragging herself back into the moment before she regressed into her depressing thoughts. Her gaze returned to the computer screen, which displayed a list of pricy and pricier flights that would—eventually—land her in Italy. She slumped against the back of the couch, lips pursed, and added, “I haven’t even tried to look into hotels yet.”
Dean leaned into her space, in order to properly read her screen, and grumbled something that sounded like a curse. He sat back a little and let his elbow land on the back of the couch so he could face her. “There’s another complication,” he hedged.
She looked back at him, but she didn’t bother voicing her question. Like the cost of this won’t be bad enough.
“Do you have a passport?”
Relief rushed from her lungs on a sigh and she nodded. At least this complication wasn’t as big as he was clearly afraid it would be. “Yeah, actually.” They’d all had passports when she’d been young, and she’d always been sure to keep hers current in case she ever needed it. But this hadn’t exactly been what she’d had in mind.
“And you’re sure you know where you need to go, right?” Dean asked again. He’d asked the question almost immediately after she’d first mentioned her desire to try and go to the funeral.
This time her smile was easier. “I am,” she assured him. She shrugged and admitted, “Well, I know the address, anyway. It’s not like I’ve ever been there.” His instant frown told her that hadn’t been the most comforting thing to say. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, settling a hand on his chest, just below his shoulder.
“I should be going with you,” he grumbled, glancing again at the computer. It wasn’t the first time he’d broached the idea, either. She was touched—more than she was ready to think about—that he would even entertain the thought. But she stood by what she’d said the first time they’d talked about him going with her. It wasn’t necessary, and it wasn’t a good idea.
“Dean,” she began, sliding her hand until she was supporting his jaw, “that’s sweet, really, but this is my mission. I’ll be fine. Your family needs you here.”
His eyes narrowed and the arm on the couch stretched out, wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into him. He pressed his lips to her forehead before murmuring, “And you need me there.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest and Arianna let herself lean into him for a long second without saying a word. She would certainly like to have him by her side when she faced her mother. The truth was, she wasn’t even sure she’d be let through the door. And if she wasn’t, she didn’t know how she would take it. But that was her fight, not theirs, and she would feel worse if something happened to Angela or any of the Hawkes while Dean was babysitting her. She was a grown up, even if she’d only recently started acting like one. She would trudge through her own personal drama by herself, like she was supposed to.
“Thank you, Dean,” she finally whispered. “But I need to do this by myself.” She could feel him tensing to argue her point, so she lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You could see me off, though, if you’re up for it.” And I’d love it if you’re still around to pick me up when I come home. That was something she wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. She wasn’t sure she was even brave enough to examine it yet.
His eyes softened and his arm tightened around her. He brushed his lips over hers, keeping the kiss light and tender, before he said, “Of course I’m up for it.”
Arianna shifted, leaning into him and curling her legs into the couch so she could stay in his arms and go back to putting herself into debt at the same time. She was going to need a second job when she came home, because even the cheapest seat on the cheapest airline was more than she could really afford. When she added hotel costs she was sure she’d be lucky to get it all paid off before retirement. It was crazy how expensive international travel was. “Then it’s time to bite the bullet,” she mumbled, scanning her options again. Not that she knew why she was looking around. There was no sense in even considering the higher numbers.
The cursor was ov
er the Purchase Ticket option for the only airline she could realistically consider and she was about to tap the touchpad when Dean reached around her and pulled her hand away.
“You can’t be seriously considering that one,” he said, holding her hand several inches from the computer.
“Dean!” Arianna exclaimed. She pulled in a breath, pried her arm free, and said, “It’s the cheapest one I’ve found. I’m not considering it, I’m taking it. The price will be higher in an hour, I can’t afford to contemplate.”
“I know the prices aren’t getting any lower,” Dean assured her. His tone was disturbingly calm and she was instantly suspicious. He sounded like a man who’d already won. “That doesn’t mean you can’t at least fly with a well-known airline.” As he spoke he somehow swept her laptop away from her and twisted, dislodging her spot in the process.
“Hey!” Arianna cried, sitting up and turning to see what he was doing. He’d set the computer down on his other side and was already scrolling down the screen. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Making sure you have a decent chance of getting home in one piece,” Dean replied without taking his eyes from the screen. He found something he liked, clearly, and swiftly moved the cursor toward Purchase Ticket.
She spied the associated price—over one and a half times the price of her choice—and lurched forward. “Don’t!” But it was too late. He held her back with his free arm and clicked the button simultaneously. As she watched, a pit forming in her stomach, the screen faded, processing his order. Then another screen took over, large words at the top assuring them that his tickets were reserved—all that still needed to be done was putting in the credit card information.
Arianna slumped and retreated, trying hard not to be angry. She knew she was emotional. She knew, surely, there was a logic behind his actions that she couldn’t see in the moment. But she couldn’t see it. All she could see was that she’d practically just been charged her life’s savings. “Dammit, Dean,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “We’re not all millionaires! Those tickets are going to have me eating out of garbage cans!”
Dean turned raised eyebrows over to her, clearly surprised by her outburst.
But she wasn’t going to let him speak yet. Her eyes were burning with tears again and she pushed further away from him. “I still need to try to find a hotel. There’s no way I can even consider staying with family, don’t you get that? This is maybe half of the cost of my trip!”
He was frowning now, the surprise gone from his expression. But neither was he angry. He was waiting, letting her rail at him for a moment before he explained himself. And all of a sudden she had nothing else to throw at him, because aside from the tickets she wasn’t angry with him. She wasn’t angry with him at all. He was the closest thing to a rock she had. And it was that—not her short-lived anger—that pushed the tears over the edge.
Dean caught them with his thumbs, his touch gentle and soothing, and he tugged her back into his arms. “Shh,” he whispered, running one hand over her spine. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you cry. I know you’re not a millionaire, Ari. But I am. I’m buying the tickets, not you. The only money you’re spending on this trip is for food and souvenirs.”
Arianna sniffled into his shoulder and did her best to find her voice, hating how pathetic she was in that moment. “You can’t,” she argued weakly. She knew damn well he could, and she knew equally well he would. She just wasn’t sure how to handle it. It had been so long since someone had really tried to take care of her for her own sake. She’d been on her own since Gianni’s death, in every single way. Her father had helped a little, but between the small chunks of money he sent and her unwillingness to use that money it hadn’t accounted for much. And he’d been doing it to earn her forgiveness, not support her—at least, that was her best theory.
Now she had Dean. He was staying at her side. He was holding her and supporting her and encouraging her, all simultaneously. She didn’t even know how he was doing it, let alone why she was willing to let him. Her independence just didn’t seem as important as letting Dean get a little closer.
“What I can’t do,” Dean replied quietly, “is make the pain stop. I can’t be there to comfort you when you see your mother again. I can’t make it better, baby, but I can make it not as bad as it could be.”
Her eyes closed and she wrapped her arms around his torso. That was possibly—no, definitely—the first time a guy had called her “baby” and it hadn’t sounded condescending. The first time she’d found herself liking the sound of it. “Okay,” she relented. Because it was all she could do. The only way she could show her gratitude. The only way he could tell himself he was being helpful. Apparently he didn’t see how helpful he was already being, and as soon as she was able, she would be sure to change that.
****
The nearest international airport was nearly two hours away, not that Dean minded. He’d have driven her all the way to Italy if it were physically possible. Instead he was forced to part ways with her at the large, unfamiliar airport. He couldn’t even stay with her until her plane departed. He helped her check her luggage and walked with her until the first security checkpoint came into sight.
Arianna turned to him, her carryon slung over her shoulder, and offered him a grateful smile. “I guess this is as far as you go.”
Dean ground his teeth. “I guess it is.” He held her gaze, finding himself almost physically ill at the idea of having to let her go the rest of the way by herself. “Don’t be afraid to call me. I don’t give a damn about time zones.”
“I know you don’t,” she promised. Her eyes flashed and she swallowed heavily, but she didn’t acknowledge the flicker of apprehension he’d seen. She didn’t need to.
He planted his hands on her hips, tugged her up to his chest, and claimed her lips in a kiss. It was the last taste of her he was going to get for six days. Given the circumstances, he imagined it would be harder on her than it would be on him. They pulled apart after several seconds and he tucked her beneath his chin. “You’ll be okay, Ari,” he said. “And I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise?” Arianna asked softly, her voice almost lost amongst the cacophony of the airport around them.
His arms tightened around her. “I promise.”
She nodded against him. When they separated she paused to brush another kiss over his cheek before stepping away. “Then I guess I’ll see you in a week.”
He wasn’t sure it had ever been so hard to watch someone walk away as it was to watch her make her way to the checkpoint. The two-hour drive back to Darien might as well have taken a week in itself.
****
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Victor demanded angrily, his fists clenching over the armrests of his wheelchair.
Eric tried not to cringe at his father’s tone. He wasn’t really used to being the victim of his father’s wrath, but he’d known going in this wasn’t going to be his favorite conversation. “I mean she’s not there,” he said. “She hasn’t been to work since Thursday and her rental car’s been returned.”
“What about the Hawke?” Victor asked shortly.
Taking a deep breath, Eric replied, “I haven’t seen much of him, either, Father. I think I saw his car around a couple of times, but I was never able to trail it. He could have been home some of the times I swung by the area, I suppose. I think I saw the car at her hotel on Friday.” He didn’t imagine it was a good idea to remind the old man Arianna wouldn’t be staying at that hotel anymore. Saturday had been their last day, or so he’d heard, and it was Sunday. He had to assume she was staying with Dean, but he hadn’t seen her since Thursday. That definitely seemed odd.
Victor cursed violently and pointed a thin finger at him. “Well, look harder, boy! You’re supposed to be our eyes out there! How can you keep them on their goddamned toes if you’re too busy chasing their asses? Find one of them, and put the fear of the devil into that fool!”
/> Eric reared back slightly when his father’s finger sparked. He gulped and nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course, Father. I’ll draw them out of hiding and make sure they remember to fear us.” He wanted to ask if they’d come up with a good revenge plan yet, as he hadn’t heard anything more on whatever his father and Jacob were working on, but something told him now wasn’t the time.
His father confirmed that instinct when he slammed his fist back onto his armrest and barked, “Then get going!”
Knowing better than to disobey, Eric spun on his heel and fast-walked from the living room. It wasn’t fun being on the receiving end of his father’s temper, and it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought trying to stalk their targets. It had been much easier to keep tabs on everything when he’d been being spoon-fed their information by his oblivious girlfriend.
His stomach rolled and he had to repress the shudder. At least I’m rid of that. So many times he’d wanted to just reach over and wrap his hand around her throat—to shut her up, to end his misery, to finally bring about his family’s victory. But he’d always been held in check. Always told they had a bigger goal than just killing the next mother. Still, they hadn’t understood. They hadn’t had to kiss the bitch.
That was just the memory he needed to spur himself into action. All he really had to do was find Dean or Arianna—or, hell, both of them would work just fine—and remind them who held the power. And he knew exactly where to start looking. If they were going to hole-up in Dean’s cozy little apartment, they’d be easy to flush out.
Heh, I wonder what Jacob will say about this one.
****
Arianna was exhausted, to say the least, when she stepped out of the airport and into the fresh, Italian air. She took a deep breath, hoping the foreign air might soothe her nerves, and had a brief moment of wanting to cry when it didn’t. The idea of going to Italy had been absurd enough from the safety of Dean’s apartment. Now that she’d flown halfway around the world, it seemed downright idiotic. But there was nothing to be done about it now. She had arrived and her flight back to California didn’t leave Naples until Thursday. So, here I am, Mama. You finally got me to come to Italy. Something told her her mother wouldn’t be grateful.