Angel of Tears: A Verona Legacy Short Story

by L A Cotton

  “Holy crap, that was intense,” I said the second we reached the doors. Matteo frowned, and I knew what he probably saw. I didn’t exactly live in The Four Seasons. But I earned every square inch of the small apartment I called home.

  “After you.” He pulled open the door and I slipped past him. My sneakers were ruined, water squelching every time I walked.

  Matteo followed me to the first floor. “This is me,” I said, just as the strip lighting flickered overhead. “Do you want to come inside and get dried off?”

  Our eyes met, and I felt shy all of a sudden, which was ridiculous given the fact I spent five nights a week stripping in front of complete strangers.

  The whole sky lit up again as a fork of lightning struck right above us.

  “Yeah, okay.” He gave me an uneasy smile. “If you’re sure?”

  I fought a smile. Maybe I wasn’t the only one afraid of the storm?

  Unlocking my door, I pushed it open and moved inside. Matteo followed, closing the door behind him.

  “Fuck, it’s bad out there.” He peeled the wet t-shirt away from his body, revealing a smooth slab of stomach. His eyes caught mine and his brow went up.

  Crap. Busted.

  Flushed, I spun around and went straight to the small kitchenette, peeling off my soggy jacket and dumping it in the sink. “I’m going to change into something a little less wet.”

  The second the words left my lips I realized my mistake. Matteo’s eyes darkened as he chuckled.

  “Okay, I’ll be... uh...” I hurried into the hall leading to the bathroom and bedroom. “Feel free to dry your stuff on the radiator,” I called. “I’ll grab you some towels.”

  “Thanks,” he replied.

  What was I doing?

  I knew better than to invite a strange into my home.

  But he saved you.

  Heading into the bathroom, I flicked the switch and gasped when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a wet mattered mess, and my face was streaked with ugly black lines. I looked like I’d been dragged out of a swamp. Shedding my wet, soggy clothes, I dumped them in the tub, and slipped into my big fluffy robe. Grabbing a flannel, I ran it under the hot faucet, and began cleaning my face. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it would have to do. Next, I towel dried my hair and piled it in a messy bun on top of my head.

  After grabbing a bunch of towels off the rack, I went back into the living room, pausing at the sight of Matteo standing there shirtless. “H- hi,” I choked out.

  God, he was beautiful. All hard lines and defined muscle. Tattoos decorated his skin, curving over one of his pecs and around his shoulder.

  “Are they for me?” he asked, nodding to the towels, and my cheeks burned.

  “Yes. Sorry, I just... nice tattoos.”

  God, kill me now.

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “I’m just not used to having guys in my apartment,” I stuttered over the words.

  “I find that hard to believe, Caitlin.” His face paled. “Shit, I didn’t mean… that came out all wrong.”

  I chuckled. “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen, why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I hadn’t expected him to say that. He seemed so sure of himself, so together for someone who wasn’t even old enough to buy liquor in a bar.

  The lights flickered, another crack of thunder booming outside, making me flinch.

  “You really don’t like storms, huh?”

  “We all have our fears, right?” I gave him a weak smile. “Dry off and I’ll make us some hot cocoa?”

  “Sounds good.” Matteo took the towels from me. He had a body carved of sin and painted with ink, but his eyes were kind and his smile genuine.

  It was a refreshing change from the men I usually encountered. Men who always wanted something more than polite conversation.

  I left him to dry off while I went and changed into some leggings and my favorite oversized Tinkerbell t-shirt.

  “Nice.” Matteo chuckled, pointing at my chest.

  Feeling myself grow hot, I hurried to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate. “Marshmallows?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Is there another way to—”

  A blood curdling shriek tore from my lungs as the power went out, sparks and fire exploding outside the window.

  “Relax, relax.” Matteo rushed over to me, wrapping me into his arms. Thank God, he’d put his t-shirt back on. “It’s just the storm.”

  It didn’t look like the storm, it looked like Armageddon had arrived.

  He guided me over to the windows, the only light the silvery hue of the moon outside. “See, just a power pole. But it looks like it blew the entire block.” He was right, everything was steeped in darkness. “Do you have candles?”

  I nodded, my heart still like a runaway train in my chest. “They’re in the cabinet over there.”

  “Okay, how about you stay here,” Matteo gently pushed me toward my small couch, “and I’ll light some candles?”

  “I can do it.” The tremble to my words betrayed me.

  “Look, I’m here, so let me help. It’s the least I can do.”

  Matteo wasted no time locating the candles and setting them up around the apartment. By the time he was done there was a warm amber glow flickering around the room, and my heart no longer felt like it was going to explode.

  “Jesus,” I said. “I’m not usually like this.”

  “Like what?” He frowned, bringing me a steamy mug of hot cocoa. I took it from him, our hands brushing. Sparks danced over my skin, sending a shiver racing up my spine.

  “A damsel in distress.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he let out a strained breath. “You were attacked. I’d expect you to be on edge.”

  “But I wasn’t, because you arrived.” I smiled at him, an overwhelming sense of gratitude washing over me.

  But it was deeper than that.

  All my life I’d been controlled and manipulated. As sad as it was to admit it, the man in the alley was just another in a long list of points in my life I’d rather forget. But I knew I would never forget tonight. Because for the first time ever, someone saved me.

  Matteo saved me.

  And he was here, asking for nothing in return.

  He stared back at me, his warm blue eyes searching for something.

  What, I didn’t know.

  Then Matteo tilted his head to one said and said the strangest thing to me, “Do I know you?”

  Chapter 3

  Matteo

  She looked familiar. I traced my eyes over the soft features of her face, lingering on the curve of her neck. Her milky white skin contrasting with the pile of deep red hair gathered on her head. There was a smattering of freckles dotted over her nose and her lips were full and soft and totally kissable.

  Caitlin was fucking beautiful.

  Get your head out of the gutter, Bellatoni. It wasn’t appropriate to think about her in such a way after her ordeal tonight. Not to mention the fact she was terrified of the storm.

  When I’d seen that stronzo with his hands on her petite body, I’d almost lost it. Images of Arabella had flashed through my mind. I didn’t like to spill blood often, but for the women in my life, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do.

  Family was everything to me.

  Seeing the fear in Caitlin’s eyes, hearing her screams, seeing the tears roll down her cheeks, had reached something deep inside and taken hold. Truth was, before she even invited me inside, I’d already made the decision to camp out in the truck right outside her building. Just to be sure. Part of me wondered if I should have called the cops, or better yet, called some of our guys to come and deal with the piece of shit.

  I knew Enzo would give me shit for it—hell, probably Nicco too—but I knew I wouldn’t rest without knowing she was okay.

  “Do I know you?” The words spilled from my lips.

  Caitlin’s brows knitted as she slid a hand up the side of her neck. “Provid
ence is a big place, but I suppose our paths could have crossed.” She gave me a tentative smile.

  “Actually, I hail from Verona County.”

  “Oh.” It was strange. There was a disappointed edge to her words that conflicted against the relief in her eyes.

  “You said you were walking home from work?”

  “Yes, I... uh, wait tables. It’s not exactly glamorous, but it pays the bills.”

  “What’s the name of the place?”

  “Stella’s.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.” I didn’t know Providence well, but I’d been around enough to know some of the local haunts.

  “What brings you this way?” Caitlin placed her mug down, tucking her legs underneath her. The storm continued beating down on the building, but I was too caught up in her to even notice. There was something about her. “What?” she asked, staring up at me through long lashes.

  “You’re beautiful.” Her eyes widened with fear. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.” I raked a hand through my hair. It was still damp beneath my fingers. “I’m not trying to hit on you, that’s not what this is. I just... Jesus, I should stop talking.”

  Enzo would have a field day watching me stumble over my words like this. But you usually didn’t need words to get the attention of chicks at L’Anello’s or a campus party. There was a line of girls ready and waiting to dance on the dark side, to have their shot at taming one of the Marchetti men. But they were nothing more than warm bodies and willing bed mates. I’d never found a single girl I wanted to get close to; to spend time lying in the dark just talking with...

  Until now.

  “It’s okay.” She chuckled, the soft sound like music to my ears. “I know it’s late, but are you hungry? I mean if you don’t have anywhere to be?”

  As if on cue my stomach rumbled. “I never turn down the offer of food. It’s the Italian in me.”

  “I did wonder.” Caitlin got up and I followed her to the small kitchenette, taking a seat at one of the stools. “You have a slight accent.”

  “I’m fourth generation American-Italian. My mom’s great-grandfather moved here in the late nineteenth century. What about you?”

  “Irish-American. Didn’t the red hair and pale complexion give it away?” She began rummaging around in her refrigerator, the inside light illuminating her face.

  “Eyes.”

  “Excuse me?” Caitlin looked over at me and I smiled.

  “Bingo. They’re green.”

  With a little shake of her head, she continued her forage. “I have eggs, spinach, some questionable looking cheese, tomatoes, or leftovers from lunch.”

  “We could always order in?”

  “And make some poor delivery person drive in this weather?” She looked disappointed.

  “Relax, I’m joking. Omelet sounds good or eggs over easy with spinach and cheese.”

  “A man after my own heart.” Caitlin set about gathering the ingredients, and heating oil in a small frying pan. “So, Matteo...”

  “Bellatoni.” Part of me wondered if I should have given her my real name, but Bellatoni was non-descript enough. Marchetti on the other hand...

  “Matteo Bellatoni. Tell me about you. Are you in college?”

  “I’ll be a sophomore at Montague University in the fall.”

  “Isn’t that the super elite school in Verona County?”

  “It’s just a college, Tink.”

  “Tink?” She glanced after me over her shoulder, lips parted, expression playful. It was like watching a flower slowly bloom.

  And I loved it.

  “Would you prefer I call you fairy?” I fought a grin.

  Caitlin left the spinach and eggs cooking while she pulled out a plate and some silverware. “Are you sure you don’t need to be somewhere?”

  The rain and wind battered the side of her apartment and I pressed my lips into a thin line. “It’s getting dangerous out there. Besides, I would never leave a pretty girl home alone during a storm.”

  “You’re so different,” she whispered.

  “I am?” It was a weird thing to say.

  “Yeah, at the diner... a lot of the guys are assholes.”

  “How old you, Caitlin?” There was a vulnerability about her, a softness I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it was there.

  “I turned twenty last month.”

  “How long have you been living here?” I glanced around the small apartment. It was small and tidy, but tired. The paint job needed redoing and the door to the building was barely hanging on its hinges. The neighborhood seemed okay, except for the fucker in the alley.

  “Since last summer,” she replied.

  “And before that?”

  Something changed, and Caitlin’s walls went up. I didn’t want to push, but I was desperate to know all her secrets.

  It was fucking weird.

  She was a stranger, and yet, I felt completely at ease with her.

  “You want to sit here or on the couch?”

  “Wherever you normally sit.”

  “Couch it is,” she said, sliding me a plate of food.

  We got situated in the living room, and I wasted no time tucking into the eggs. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “It’s kind of hard to screw up.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” I smiled, thinking of all the times me and Bella tried to help Mamma in the kitchen when we were younger.

  “So how do you like college?”

  “It’s okay I guess.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be some life altering experience?”

  It was. But when you were there with an ulterior motive, it was kind of hard to embrace the college life.

  “You didn’t want to go?” I asked Caitlin. Her eyes dropped to her plate and I knew I’d hit a nerve.

  “It wasn’t really on the cards for me. Who knows? Maybe one day, if I save enough money, I’ll get to do night classes or something. I’ve always wanted to dance.”

  “You dance?”

  “I used to.” Her smile fell. “Had high hopes of one day making a living out of it, but it wasn’t to be.”

  “There’s always time,” I said.

  “I guess. Are you finished?” She nodded to the empty plate.

  “Yeah, thank you.”

  Taking it from me, she asked, “When do you think they’ll get the power fixed?”

  “Tomorrow once the storm passes.” Caitlin’s eyes fluttered closed, a visible shudder rippling through her. “Hey, I can stay... I mean, I don’t want to overstep, but I’m in no hurry to go.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m an adult. I should be able to survive a storm.” She rolled her pretty green eyes.

  “Ask me,” the words rolled off my tongue.

  “I...” She hesitated, indecision flickering in her eyes. Another crack of lightning lit up the apartment and she flinched. “Okay, will you stay, please?”

  “I would love to stay.”

  “Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I grimaced. “No. There is never an excuse for fruit on a pizza.”

  “You do know tomato is a fruit, right?” Caitlin laughed. She’d been doing that since I said I would stay.

  “That’s an exception. The only exception.” I grinned. “My turn. Guys with tattoos, yes or no?”

  “Hmm.” She pressed a finger to her lips. I don’t think I’d ever been more jealous of an appendage. “That depends... If it’s something tasteful that has sentimental value then sure, I can get on board. But if it’s something brash and showy like I don’t know, a skull or eagle for example, then it’s a no from me.”

  My eyes almost bugged, but realization dawned on me. “Were you checking me out earlier?” I smirked.

  Heat crept into her neck and ran into her cheeks. “Busted. But if it’s any consolation, I really like your tattoos.”

  Well, shit, if she didn’t just steal the air from my lungs.

  So
mething was happening.

  Maybe it was the storm or the fact I’d saved her, or maybe it was the hot cocoa and spinach and eggs, but Caitlin was exactly the kind of girl I could see myself falling for one day.

  She was funny and unafraid to call me out on my bullshit. She was beautiful—so fucking beautiful—and she had this vulnerability that made me want to protect her.

  “The beach or the city?”

  “Neither. I’m a homebody,” I said. “There is nothing more I like than to spend Sundays with my family, with good food and laughter. Sounds kind of dumb, huh?”

  “Not at all.” She gave me a weak smile. “It’s sounds kind of perfect actually. Family is important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. My mom and my sister are my whole world.”

  “They’re lucky to have you.” Sadness etched into her expression.

  “What about your family? What are they like?”

  “I haven’t spoken to them in almost two years.”

  “Shit, Caitlin, I’m sorry.” She looked so lost, I wanted to pull her into my arms and comfort her. But it wasn’t my job.

  Not yet. The thought came out of left field.

  “It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.” She smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There’s this saying I love, ‘it’s not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain’, I try to remember that.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I sensed there was a story there.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Okay. Well, the night is still young.” It really wasn’t, but I didn’t want to say goodnight yet. “Do you have a pack of cards?”

  “Yes, I think I have one lying around somewhere.” She got up and went over to the kitchenette, rummaging through one of the drawers. “Bingo.”

  “Excellent.” I grinned over at her. “How do you feel about strip poker?”

  Chapter 4

  Caitlin

  “You want to play strip poker?” My cheeks flamed. Matteo was the perfect distraction. Apart from the odd crack of lightning, I’d barely noticed the storm raging on outside. He was funny and sweet, and he had this smile that made me feel at complete ease.