Two hours later he woke me up. He was fully dressed and acted as if nothing had happened. In fact, he threw my suitcase on top of the bed and ordered me to get dressed. I was baffled, mostly because of his behavior but also because I had left my suitcase at Joaquin’s apartment.
I brushed the mystery of the suitcase off and gave into the anger that washed over me. He didn’t get to crawl into bed with me, kiss me and touch me—leave me hanging—and then throw orders at me.
“You got ten minutes to get dressed,” he said.
“Or what?”
“Or I’m taking you to the airport dressed like that.”
“I’m not wearing panties.”
“Yeah, I got that much,” he growled.
“I bet you did,” I taunted, cocking my head to the side. I tossed the comforter off my body, crossed my leg over my knee and gave him a glimpse of what he turned down. Then his words sank in. “Wait a minute—did you say you’re taking me to the airport?”
Keeping his eyes between my legs, he said, “Sure did.”
I jumped out of bed and tugged the t-shirt down my thighs.
“My flight isn’t until tomorrow and Joaquin needs me.”
He lifted his chin.
“You’re the last thing Joaquin needs. Now, stop taunting me with your pretty little pussy and get dressed before I get my ass handed to me.”
“By who?”
“Not your concern. Just do as I say.”
I want to tell you that I put up a good fight. That I didn’t let him get the last word, but Rocco turned on his heel and exited the room before I could reply. I weighed my options, recalling the night before and how I tried to talk to my brother. He was distraught and barely paid me any mind. I couldn’t be mad at him, though, or press him to confide in me. He was mourning and that screws with a person. Still, it stung knowing he didn’t want me around.
Not to console him or help him deal with his grief.
He just wanted me gone and out of his hair.
I’m not even certain he wanted me in Miami before the shooting. To my brother, I was a nuisance. A complication he didn’t need.
Rocco wasn’t the only one who had changed since taking a position in Victor Pastore’s organization, so had Joaquin and I was starting to hate the man everyone in our neighborhood respected. Victor had taken the two men in my life and molded them into villains. So you can imagine how fucking ticked I was when we arrived at the airport and boarded his private jet and to make matters worse, the don himself was accompanying us back to New York.
He seemed just as surprised as me, though.
“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest, Rocco,” Victor crooned, smiling at me.
“You said you didn’t give a shit, and this is all I could come up with,” Rocco replied. “You won’t even know she’s here, isn’t that right, Bug?”
That was the straw the broke the camel’s back.
First, my friends bail on me. Then I get stranded at the airport because my brother forgets to pick me up. But, wait, the birthday fun was just getting started! Rocco aimed a gun at my head, I got all dressed up for dinner and dancing—didn’t get dinner and forget the dancing. There was a shoot-out, a woman died, and Rocco treated me like his personal plaything.
I was done.
So fucking done.
Faking a smile, I elbowed Rocco in the gut. I would’ve kneed him in the balls, but he was standing beside me and Marlon Brando had his eyes on me.
“Fuck,” Rocco hissed. “What the hell was that for?”
“The list is long, take your pick,” I snapped.
Victor looked between us and barked out a laugh before extending his hand to me.
“We didn’t get a chance to be formally introduced.”
“Yeah, the gunfire kinda put a wrench in that,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’m Violet.”
“I know who you are, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
“Yeah, I know who you are too,” I mumbled.
Again, he laughed. I was so glad I could entertain him—not.
Once we were seated and the pilot prepared for takeoff, Victor tried to make small talk with me. He told me how fond he was of my brother and I had to bite my tongue or I would’ve told him his fondness for my brother ruined him. Then he mentioned my mom’s restaurant and how he loved her food. That surprised me because I’m almost certain if he ever walked into my mother’s restaurant, she’d refuse to serve him. But I didn’t say anything. I just nodded my head and smiled.
“So, you two are pretty chummy,” he said observantly, pointing a finger between me and Rocco.
If only he knew how chummy we were a couple of hours ago when we were in bed together.
“She was always hanging around the neighborhood, annoying me and Joaquin hence why I call her Bug,” Rocco supplied as he unscrewed a bottle of water. It looked as though it physically pained him to drink something other than liquor.
“Surely, you can come up with a better nickname for such a beautiful young lady,” Victor chastised.
“Or he can just call me Violet,” I said.
“He’s thickheaded, my nephew.”
“He’s an asshole is what he is.”
“No arguments here,” Victor agreed, a smirk on his face.
“And on that note, I’m going to take a fucking leak,” Rocco declared, ripping his seatbelt off.
“The pilot didn’t say we could get out of our seats,” I reminded him, cheekily.
“I’ll take my chances,” he grumbled and disappeared to the back of the luxury jet.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my Grace,” Victor said thoughtfully. That comment forced me to bring my eyes back to him. That’s quite the compliment and if I wasn’t scorned by this weekend’s events I’d be flattered. I mean, Grace Pastore is the epitome of class. She’s endearing, sweet, and kind. A queen in her own right.
I wanted to be Grace Pastore, but I was sure I had a lot of work to do.
“With all due respect, your wife and I are nothing alike. She’s much kinder and less outspoken.”
He smiled.
“Don’t be fooled by Grace’s manners. She may be soft spoken and kindhearted, but under all that silk, my Gracie is a force to be reckoned with. She keeps me in check and is the first to tell me when I’m wrong. She’s strong and opinionated and there is nothing she won’t do for her family.” He pauses and crosses his leg over his knee. “I’m sorry you had to see what you saw last night.”
Unable to stop the words from flying out of my mouth, I replied, “Are you sorry for what happened to that girl too?”
He cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a beat.
“What happened to that girl was unfortunate, but it was no fault of mine.”
He said I reminded him of his wife, that she was opinionated and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family, so he should respect me for speaking my mind and defending my own family. That’s why I didn’t bite my tongue and asked the next question.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me, but that don’t make it untrue,” he said pointedly. His gaze cut to the back of the plane to where Rocco disappeared and he continued, “You care about him.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation, one I wasn’t sure how to respond to so I remained silent. Rocco was on my shit list at the moment, but for all the times I hated him, I loved him more. I don’t know if that makes me a fool or what because after he the way he pushed me aside, I’m almost certain nothing will ever come of it.
I’m fully aware of how that sounds. I mean, any sane person would consider that a blessing after witnessing what I did.
“I know about Mitch and what Rocco did to make your problem go away and I warned him to cut ties with you,” Victor revealed. “I told him you were too young and too naïve. That you wouldn’t last in his world.”
I stared at him
blankly, digesting his words, trying to decide how I felt by the lack of confidence and if there was any merit to it. I was young, yes, but I’m not naive. I’ll never lie to myself about who they are and what they do. Do I condone it? Not exactly, but I accept it. What choice do I have? Joaquin is my family and Rocco…well, I don’t know what he is.
I swallow and focus my attention back to Victor.
“Rocco doesn’t want me. You heard him yourself, I’m an annoyance.”
“You’re not naïve, you’re just blind. His life is about to change dramatically, something I’m sure he hasn’t shared with you. Am I right?”
Considering I had no idea what he was talking, I shook my head.
“He’s a loose cannon and without your brother in his ear, he’s going to need someone to reign him in when the pressure becomes all too consuming. Someone to ground him and remind him that he’s only human. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell him when he’s wrong. Someone who will remind him of who he is outside the underworld.”
I still wasn’t completely grasping what he was saying or how it pertained to me. Surely, he didn’t think I was someone with any hold on his nephew. Rocco wouldn’t listen to me if I were the only person on the planet.
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I’m saying you remind me of my Grace,” he reiterated.
Grace grounded him.
Those words are still ringing in my ears, even now after the plane has landed and we’ve parted ways with Victor.
Could I be that for Rocco? Could I remind him of who he was outside the mob? Would he even let me?
“It’s the second building on the left,” Rocco says, pulling me away from my thoughts.
I divert my attention out the window of the sedan, realizing we’re turning onto my block. The driver slows the car in front of my mom’s house, and I send a silent prayer up to God that my mom has left for the restaurant already. I’m not in the mood to hear her go on about Rocco or give me the third degree on why I’m home a day earlier than planned.
My head is spinning and I need a little time before I start lying through my teeth.
“I know I don’t have to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway,” Rocco starts, drawing my attention to him. “Violet, whatever you saw, it stays here. You don’t go running your mouth.”
“Right, because I’m just itching to tell everyone I took cover under a table and saw a woman die before my eyes.”
“I’m serious,” he exclaims.
I sigh exasperatedly, throwing my hands up.
“C’mon, Rocco, who the fuck am I going to tell?” I angrily sneer.
“I’m just saying, it’s a lot to keep bottled in. You might be numb to it now, but you were a mess afterward and that shit doesn’t just disappear. It’s going to fucking haunt you and when it does, I want you to call me.”
I’m sure he’s right. I won’t forget what happened in Miami anytime soon and whenever I can’t reach him or Joaquin, I’ll be transcended back to last night. I’ll fear the worst and wish crime never found their lives. But what happened can never consume me because the second it does, the mob wins. The men who shot up that restaurant and killed Pilar, they win and I won’t let that happen.
Not to me.
“Did you hear me? I want you to call me,” he repeats.
My eyes lock with his. He doesn’t want me to call him—not really and I call him out on it.
“Why so you can play with my emotions?”
“What are you talking about?”
He can’t be this dense.
“Last night you crawled into bed with me, Rocco. You kissed me and you touched me—”
“That was a mistake.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“It didn’t feel like one to me,” I whisper.
It felt right.
It felt overdue.
He can call it whatever he wants but like there are two sides to every story, there were two people in that bed.
Me and him.
Mistake my ass.
“Well, it was. I’m not good for you, Violet, and if you think otherwise, then maybe you should remember how you felt when you looked at Pilar,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to be in New York for a couple of days, then I’ll fly back to be with your brother for Pilar’s service, but I’m taking residence here. If you need me, you call.”
I smack his hand away.
“I won’t,” I say defiantly.
“I hope not,” he murmurs.
“Why is that?”
“Because, you my pretty ballerina, are my greatest weakness.”
Chapter 14
Violet Cabrera
After Rocco dropped me off at home, I didn’t see or hear from him. As suspected my mother was on my case, wanting to know why my trip was cut short. I lied and told her Joaquin and Rocco were busy with the nightclub and Miami isn’t fun when you’re flying solo. Whether she bought my fib or not remains to be seen.
“Mija, table six is waiting to have their order taken,” my mother calls from the kitchen and I quickly pocket my phone.
In the last two days I’ve texted and called my brother countless times and all have gone unanswered. This morning I almost called Rocco to see if he had heard anything from him, but I quickly decided against it.
I told him I wasn’t going to call him and here I was almost two days later, about to cave. I can just imagine the smug look on his face.
Yeah, no thank you.
I was dealing with the events of the weekend just fine on my own. I’m not sure what kind of person that made me. I mean, most people would be traumatized to the point of not being able to function and yet my only concern was my brother.
He’d call eventually, though—at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
On top of that, I was still reeling from my conversation with Victor. It was almost as if the man was encouraging me to pursue Rocco and while I have been training my whole life to do just that, I was tired of being pushed aside and more than that I hated being called a mistake.
Rocco and my brother live in a cruel world. A world that sometimes appears glamorous but in all actuality is a living nightmare, one that seemed to be getting worse by the day. Choosing to be part of that world was a mistake, living for the moment and giving into your feelings, falling in love--those things are not mistakes.
People are not mistakes.
And I think Victor Pastore would agree with me.
Even gangsters need love.
Something I realized the moment I stared across the plane and listened to Victor speak of his wife. Here was this ruthless man who had a laundry list of crimes under his belt, a man who ordered hits and tore families apart, but he had a soft spot for the woman who stood in his shadows. The woman he claimed grounded him and reminded him that he was human. He loved and he lost. He rejoiced and he grieved. He held the power of New York City in one hand, and the heart of his wife in the other.
It was endearing and I started to see Victor in a new light.
Grace Pastore may have spent countless nights awake and worrying about her husband, but she was loved.
She was respected.
Cherished.
She was everything I wanted to be and not because she gave out the best candy on Halloween.
But try as he might, Rocco was no Victor Pastore. Not in that regard anyway.
Pushing him out of my head, I meander my way to table six and take the couple’s order. I need to get back to the Academy. Four days off and I’m turning into a lovesick fool, forgetting about my dreams of becoming center stage. Rocco would be nothing more than a distraction. A roadblock on the path to my dreams.
I clip the order to the line and send it through to the kitchen.
“You’re distracted,” my mother points out. “If you’re not going to be of any help, you might as well go home.”
It’s times like this when I wish I could be like Joaquin and just s
hrug her insults off, but I’m weak when it comes to our mother, always seeking her approval and never getting it. If anyone else in this world demeaned or ridiculed me the way she does, I’d cut them with my sharp tongue and make them feel smaller than she makes me feel.
“I’m sorry, ma,” I mutter. “I figured since I had the day off from school, I could help out around here. Save you the payroll.”
Silly me.
“Won’t be saving much of anything if the customers walk out because they’re not being served. Take this to table three and while you’re at it, table four can use a refill.”
“Right,” I murmur, lifting the hot plates from the counter.
“And Violet?”
“Yes?”
“Get rid of that hoodlum before he steps foot inside my restaurant,” she warns, glaring behind me.
Carefully balancing the plates, I turn to see who she’s referring to. My gaze moves to the glass windows and I watch as Rocco walks across the parking lot with two men I’ve never seen before trailing behind him. Ignoring his posse, I focus on him, taking in the suit and…is that a tie? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear one of those before—at least not correctly.
He pulls open the door and the overhead bell chimes—not that we need a bell to announce his presence or anything. Rocco walks into a room and the aura instantly changes, commanding the attention of everyone sharing his space. The second his eyes find mine the plates nearly fall from my hands. I hate how my body betrays my common sense and reacts to him on its own accord. Every nerve comes alive, all my senses are heightened and my stomach flutters with anticipation. It doesn’t matter that my mom is staring daggers at him or that she ordered me to throw him out of the restaurant.
I’m drawn to him like magnet.
Keeping up with the delivery of mixed signals, he winks at me from across the restaurant and takes a seat at the other end of the counter.
As curious as I am by his presence, I look away and focus on grabbing the customers’ refills. Once I deliver them to the table, I glance toward the kitchen. My mother raises an eyebrow, silently ordering me to get rid of him and I shake my head defiantly.
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