But a sadder, more damning thought chases on the heels of any trace of optimism: Rome doesn’t think I can do this. He doesn’t think I can run the salon. He got his girlfriend to feel sorry for me and lower the price. I’ll bet they had a good laugh about my stupid crush.
I’m a charity case.
Or worse, Rome wants something. Doom hits me square in the chest when I know I’ve settled on the heart of the matter. Valentinos don’t do a favor for nothing. Same goes for my family, so I know the drill. He wouldn’t lower my rent, then have Orlando just so happen to mention it to me for no reason. He wants me in his pocket.
Rome is playing me.
Two tears roll down my cheeks, and I hate them both.
I am stupid for letting things go this far. Rome reads to me over the phone every night before I go to sleep. I am such an idiot that I allowed romance to seep into my home.
I swipe at my tears and command the others not to fall.
I am my father’s daughter—cold and detached. I have been through way worse than a broken heart. This is not worth my tears.
Except no matter how firmly I tell myself this, they begin to fall without discretion for my pride.
I put down the box of cannoli, losing my taste for anything sweet. I don’t want to admit how hurt I am. I’ve been falling for Rome without a safety net, lowering my guard by inches every time he says something charming.
I sob into my hand, knowing I have been played.
I am the worst kind of cliché—a woman playing into the mafia king’s hands, lured by sweet nothings until she is so deep in his pocket, she forgets her own name.
Kennedy. That’s my name. He’s only toying with me so he can stick it to my father.
Another tear falls down my cheek. I’m not sure if I am devasted that I fell for it all, or if I am more distraught that this means the fairytale has to end.
I always knew one day I would have to let Rome go. I just wasn’t expecting it to feel like this.
16
Rome’s Agenda
Colette
I’ve barely finished crying when my father’s heavy fist bangs on my office door. I know the echo of his knock well. It sounds of weariness and anger, no matter the thickness of the door.
I stand up, casting around the modest four corners for a place to hide my contraband. “Just a minute!” I cringe at how guilty I sound. It’s not like I’m holding something dangerous or illegal.
Though, I’m sure my father would prefer either of those options to a token of affection from a Valentino. This is exactly what Rome wants—for the sheriff to see me pining over a romantic gift from the rival family. It would break my father’s heart.
Frantic, I stash the box behind a shipment of disinfectant. I swipe at my eyes, knowing there is precious little I can do to conceal the obvious fact that I have been crying. I smooth my hand over my fitted cream blouse and mid-thigh length navy skirt. I hope I’m not giving off any telltale signals that I am betraying the family by flirting with the enemy.
Only we’re not enemies. At least, that’s what the truce is supposed to communicate.
I open the door, unable to produce even a shadow of a smile. “Hi, I…” I stop short, surprised when Rome is beside him, looking all no-nonsense, as usual. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?”
My father comes in and makes himself at home, sitting in my chair at my desk. He will always be the biggest presence in whatever room he enters, including my office. “Rome and I were talking, and I had an idea. You opening up a business in Midtown is a statement, sure. Us having our biweekly meetings on your property is a good show to the city that our truce is firm. But what would take it further would be if Rome’s men started getting their hair cut here.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
To his credit, Rome’s mouth doesn’t twitch. Of course Rome would leave a trail of breadcrumbs for my father to follow, making the sheriff think he himself came up with the whole plan. Lo and behold, my father’s ego showed up to play right into his capable, cannoli-making hands.
Like daughter like father, I guess.
I cross my arms over my bosom, tapping my lavender stiletto. The whole idea is bothersome to me now. I don’t want to see Rome if I don’t have to. Not after this. “Why, again?”
“If the city sees the Valentino organization frequenting a Kennedy business and there’s no hint of bloodshed, it’ll fast track us to a place where the old feuds can be forgotten. You know the vampires look to the Valentino family to show them the way.”
I don’t respond right away. The fact of the matter is that Rome has already involved himself in my business, which feels like a power play move. I’ve seen the sheriff do it loads of times—help someone get a break on some violation, so they feel they owe us loyalty and favors. Fintan is just as bad with his loan sharking.
I don’t want to owe Rome anything.
I don’t want to think about Rome involving himself in my life just to rub my crush in my father’s face.
I try to draw myself up, even though I am the shortest person in the room.
I am five feet tall, so I am the shortest person in most rooms.
I raise my chin. “Let me sleep on it.”
Rome frowns, his mouth in a hard line as his brows push together. “There’s no downside. You’ll get consistent business from us.” I can practically hear the words he cannot say in front of my father: “We already talked about this.”
The sheriff’s phone rings, and he takes the call while Rome stares me down.
I pretend not to notice, just like I pretend I wasn’t crying. “I assume the offer will still be up for discussion tomorrow? This isn’t a limited-time deal, right?”
“No, I guess not. I just don’t see what the problem is.” Rome studies my hesitance regarding the issue we thought up together. I can tell he wants to get answers out of me, but he won’t demand them because the sheriff is sitting right there.
When my dad stands, he pockets his phone and moves toward the door. He pauses on his way out, as if he means to kiss the top of my head.
I glance up at him in confusion, my upper lip curled.
We don’t do that. Declan and I hug every time we see each other and hold hands when we’re afraid. But that is not something we learned from our father.
The sheriff grimaces, then gives me a weird bob of his head. “Give the matter some thought, Coco. This little shop of yours could use the Valentino seal of approval. Then it’ll be packed.”
It already is booked solid for weeks.
And it’s not a little shop. This is the third branch of a franchise that I started without his help or input. He’s always looking for ways to demean me.
Even though I am wearing stilettos, I am still shorter than him. I will always be shorter than him.
I feel idiotic and small. Gullible and childish.
My father doesn’t notice my smashed heart. Those sorts of things tend to go over his head. “I’ve got to see to something on our side of town. Rome, fill Coco in on the rest of the details. Make this happen, Son.”
Rome straightens at the familial address. “Of course, Sheriff. Can you tell Orlando I’ll be out in a bit? I want to pitch your plan to the boss one more time.”
“Will do.” My father puts his hand on the doorknob but pauses to meet my gaze before he exits. “Just to be clear, you’re doing this. Talk it out all you want, but this is happening. Don’t be stubborn just because it’s my idea. It’s a good one, and something that furthers the truce you believe in. Save your bullheadedness for something less important. Real grownups are doing real work. Join us when you’re done throwing whatever this latest fit is.”
I indulge in a snarl, but that’s the most I will talk back once my father has laid down the law.
And in front of a Valentino, no less.
17
Coming Clean
Colette
The second he leaves, Rome’s shoulders lower. He makes sure my door is shut and then turns
the lock. “That was all a show, right? You’re making him sweat but you’re still on board with the idea.”
I cross the quaint room to my desk, straightening the papers my father messed up. “A funny thing happened this morning. Do you want to guess what it was?” I keep my face turned from his, maintaining my cool demeanor even though we are alone.
We’re never alone. We’re always on the phone, far away from each other. Since I cut his hair that first night that started all of this, we have been fanning our flame over the phone but not in person.
Rome throws his hands up, finally giving into expressing his personality now that it’s just the two of us. “Not a clue. Is something wrong? Because talking to the back of your head isn’t what I was hoping for.”
“My landlady stopped by to let me know that my rent was being cut in half. Strange, huh?”
Rome isn’t dumb enough to play stupid. He knows what a mistake that would be. Instead of copping to it, he goes silent, playing possum to see how far that gets him.
Even though I am facing away from him, I talk with my free hand while straightening the papers on my desk with the other. “See, I’m trying to think of why Angelica would do that. Then Orlando comes in and drops off the best raspberry cannoli in the world, along with the news that you are the force behind your girlfriend’s sudden benevolence. What I don’t understand is why. What’s your angle, Valentino?”
“My angle?” His face sours. “Wait, you think I have a girlfriend? You think Angelica is my girlfriend?”
“I’ve seen this game. I know what happens next. You get me a deal on my rent. Then when you need a favor from me, I’m obligated to jump to your whistle. So just tell me now—what’s this going to cost me?”
Rome runs his hand over his mouth, sizing me up in a new light. “I guess we are a perfect match; you’re just as jaded as I am.”
“I was raised knowing the rules, just like you were. What I don’t get is why the flirtation? Why toy with me if all you had to do was cut my rent in half to buy my loyalty? Why make me raspberry cannoli and call me and make me want…” I feel stupid for not seeing it all clearer from the beginning. Even stupider because my voice is catching with emotion that I don’t want to show him. A man who does this to me doesn’t deserve to see me raw and breakable. Rarely have I tolerated being either of those things. “You’re trying to stick it to my family by getting me to fall for you. Orlando explained it all to me.”
He fixes me with a hollow stare. “Orlando said what?”
I sniffle back my heartbreak. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. And frankly, it’s beneath you.”
There’s a weighty pause before Rome speaks in his cool, authoritative manner. “Sit down.”
I turn to look him up and down, fixing him with my coldest stare. “I know you’re not trying to tell me what to do.”
His eyes close in veiled frustration. “Please have a seat with me, Colette. I’m not leaving until we hash this out.”
I comply and I take the chair behind my desk, leaving the guest seat for him. It’s bad enough that my father took my chair when he came in here. I’ll not give it up again. Not when power matters this much. Not when I’m “Coco with her little shop.”
I don’t relish being used. The whole thing smacks of me being a fool, which I am not. Beneath the shame of it all, I am angry I fell for it in the first place.
Rome takes his time sitting down, sizing up the desk that separates us. “First off, Orlando shouldn’t have told you that. I didn’t want you to know it was me who was behind your rent decrease. I just wanted to do something nice for you. I’ve opened my fair share of new businesses before. The first year is hard. You’re taking a big risk, opening up here. I believe in what you’re doing—in the statement of peace you’re making. I didn’t want the whole thing to fold over something as stupid as money.” He holds up his hands. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me, so there’s no quid pro quo coming. That’s how our fathers do things, tré-sur.” He holds my gaze with a no-nonsense firmness. “I am not my father.”
My retort comes through gritted teeth. “My name is Colette Kennedy. I am not your treasure. I’m your joke.”
He holds up his hands, though I can see my firm words skewer him. “Apologies, Miss Kennedy.”
I am not ready to give up my indignation, though his argument is doing its best to defuse each of my points. “I see what you’re doing, Rome. Orlando laid it all out for me. You’re being sweet to me to piss off my family. Maybe that’s why you helped out with my rent. I’m not stupid enough to think there’s something real between us.”
Though I try to sound flippant, the smack of true hurt crackles in the air between us.
Rome stands slowly, pressing his hands on my desk so he can tower over me as he leans forward. “I want you to listen to me now. I don’t fall for pretty faces and long legs—though you’ve got both of those in spades. What turns my head is a woman who can see me—really see me—and keep up with all I’ve got going. I’m just as thrown by this whole thing as you are. I want peace between our families just as much as you do.”
“Is that what you told Angelica?”
He holds up his finger, pulling out his phone. “I’m not doing this twice. Hold on.” When his call connects, he turns his phone on speaker. “Orlando, I’m not dating Angelica. It’s Colette I’m interested in. Angelica kissed my cheek, is all, and I made things clear to her that I’m not up for grabs.”
My breath stills in my chest. “What are you doing?” I shout-whisper.
Rome holds his finger up to me, waiting for Orlando’s reply.
Orlando’s voice fills my office. “I know what you’re doing, and now Coco does, too. I didn’t save her life so you could mess with her head. You’re mad at Elias for leaving us high and dry when he didn’t come through on his end of the deal after we bought all those patrol cars. You’re stringing Coco along so you can stick it to her family. I’ll have your back through just about anything, Rome. You know that. But I’m not going to look the other way on this. She’s been jerked around enough. She doesn’t deserve to pay for what her father did to us.”
A lump forms in my throat, grateful to Orlando for this and so many other reasons.
Rome grips the edge of my desk, closing his eyes as if this conversation truly pains him. “I want both of you to listen to me now. I couldn’t care less about the patrol cars. Money is no reason to retaliate. Money means nothing. It buys loyalty. When it doesn’t, then it’s just paper with dead people printed on it. The sheriff took useless paper from me. If I was going to play the angle of seducing his only daughter, I would have sent Nico in for the job.”
I scoff at the notion.
Rome meets my eyes across the desk. I can see the fire of hard truth blazing in his blue orbs. “I don’t want to stick anything to your dad. When I came by that night it all started, it was to make amends for Nico trashing your salon. I didn’t count on falling for you, but that’s exactly what happened. Do you think I read poetry to just anyone? Do you know the last time I made cannoli by hand? Do you have any idea how little I want to be with any other woman? It’s you, tré-sur. If I wanted to rub your father’s nose in it, I would’ve done that the first day. I wouldn’t be still sneaking around, hoping not to get caught because I know that would cause a fight with your family.” He presses his finger to the center of my desk. “I have just as much to lose as you do in all of this. But none of that matters to me. Everything I’ve worked for feels foolish. I want to be with you, Coletta. Only you. Always you.”
I have no idea what to make of any of this, even as Orlando groans on the other end. “Are you serious? Why, Rome? Why her? I was mad when I thought you were stringing her along, but this is way worse. Dating a Kennedy is a death sentence. Fintan is mental and the sheriff’s not far behind. They keep tabs on everything she does. They try to control each move she makes. One whiff of this, and they’ll send her overseas again.” I can picture Orlando shaking his he
ad. “You’re insane. Absolutely insane. Go be with Angelica if you’re lonely. Not a Kennedy.”
Rome doesn’t acknowledge Orlando at all. He loses a fair amount of his tough demeanor when he reaches across the desk to thumb a tear from my cheek that I didn’t realize had fallen. His entire body softens, along with his voice. “There is no one else, tré-sur. Only you. I met with Angelica in a public place because I wanted your rent lowered. I didn’t realize she thought we were on a date. The second I did, I got out of there as quick as I could.”
My voice comes out just above a whisper. “Why did you do that, if not to keep me in your pocket, owing you a favor for that favor?”
Rome shakes his head at me. “You are too good at living in this city, Coletta. I hate that this place has jaded you so much that you can’t fathom someone supporting you without a selfish motive. I want to make your life better. I will not be just another person in your life who uses you. If I can’t be with you, I still want you to succeed, even if I have to watch you shine from afar. Anyone who bests me with their bravery deserves that.” He pauses, pursing his lips while his nostrils flare. “I am never surprised. But you doing something bold like opening a Kennedy business in Midtown that serves both humans and vampires? No one saw that coming.” He jabs his finger to the center of my desk. “I would have helped you regardless because I believe in the truce, and I’m damn impressed with your moxie.”
Rome starts pacing, his words turning into somewhat of a rant. “Falling for you was never part of my plan.” His tone turns sour, as if he is arguing with me, frustrated with my silence. “I don’t have time for a woman I care about. I don’t have the energy to stick around and work things out when the road gets muddy. Yet here I am, duking it out with you because I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you think I only want you so I can start a war.”
He stops pacing and points to the exit. “If I had a lick of sense, I would march out of here right now and never look back. I would write you off as just a nice pair of tits and that’s that. But I’m here, making sure you know I am behind you, fighting for your success because I believe in your vision.” He motions around the room. “No one believes in Mayfield! The only reason humans move here is for the tax break they get from donating blood on a monthly basis. Then you, with all your smarts and talent come back to this hellhole and breathe life into me just when I was sure this place was going to suffocate my last shred of hope.”
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