Love Interrupted

by Matilda Martel

  I stand to grab the bottle and return to my seat. There’s no sense in using a glass. “Please, tell me you said no.”

  “It’s not that simple. And before you go running your mouth, hear me out.” He takes a deep breath and tightly clutches the glass in his hand. “Alex has one sister. The only reason we do business with him is because he doesn’t work in human slavery. You know how I feel about that shit.”

  “Then why would he offer his flesh and blood?” I stare, confused. Furious and confused.

  He chuckles darkly, then rolls his eyes. “This is about to get complicated. You might need to take notes. The reason Alex was cruising nearby is because the fucker’s been chasing my sister.”

  My mind churns. “Irina? Jesus, does Maksim know? They’re weeks from getting married.”

  He shakes his head. “Not Irina. Thankfully, the pervert isn’t attracted to women his age. He wants Maya.”

  My jaw drops. “Maya? Your baby sister? The one you still forbid to date because she’s only eighteen-years-old? Are you seriously considering this?”

  He frowns. “For starters, I would never sell my sister like a piece of meat. Not for profit or to appease some Sicilian dick who treats the Hudson like it’s his personal river. I don’t care who I am or how many men I lead. My mother would cut my balls off, and my father would rise from the grave for the sole purpose of shoving them in my mouth. He wants to marry her, not keep her as his whore.”

  For the sake of our lifelong friendship, I give him the benefit of the doubt and keep my temper in check. “Marry her? That doesn’t make any difference. He’s twice her age and you’re still giving her to a man against her will. This goes against everything we do.” I clench my fist at my side and think about my cousin. “She’s just a kid, Yuri.”

  “She’s the same age as the kid you married, Igor. Fucking hypocrite. And no one said anything about giving her away against her will. Maya’s been acting strange recently and for the past two weeks she’s given her bodyguard the slip on several occasions. She’s wily and she’s her father’s daughter. She knows this life as much as the rest of us.

  After Alex came to me with his proposal or trade, whatever you want to call it, I told him I’d think about it, for the sake of keeping the peace. To be safe, I placed extra men on Maya’s tail. One’s she wouldn’t know she needed to shake off.” He laughs to himself.

  “And?” I put down the bottle of whiskey and move to the edge of my seat. This is incredible. This goes far beyond me and Charlotte. These fuckers are playing a strange game of musical sisters.

  “She’s been sneaking off to Sunset Park to meet Alex, doing God knows what for all hours of the night until he drops her off three blocks from my mother’s house and she swears she spent the night at a friend’s house. That little girl is getting more action than I am.” He lights a cigar and takes a puff.

  My eyes flare. “Maya and Alex? So, Alex wants Maya and in exchange he offers Alia. Does Alia want you?”

  He chuckles as he nods. “I’m flattered. She’s a beautiful girl. Stunning. That must be why Leo is going nuts. He wants Alia, but every time I see her, she pushes her boobs together and gives me bedroom eyes that would make a hooker blush.” He pauses and takes another puff.

  “But I’m not attracted to her. As a man, yes. I’d be blind. But not to keep. She’s too young. I’m not like you weirdos who like naïve virgins. I like my women a little older, with careers and good heads on their shoulders. Someone with balls who puts up a bit of a fight and won’t take my shit.” He smiles to himself.

  “Jesus Christ. I know who you’re talking about. I can’t believe you’re still hard for that Assistant D.A. She wanted to put you in fucking jail, and you spent the entire meeting hard as a fucking rock. Please, never contact her. If her boss wasn’t so dirty, they could have locked you up for years.”

  “I have gone nowhere near her. Not yet. And when I do, I’m not giving you a heads up.” His expression darkens. “But first things first. My father wronged you. Antonio Moretti wronged you. It’s my duty to help make this up to you. And I think it’s high time Miss Charlotte Wentworth came home.”

  Five

  Charlotte

  Come home, Charlotte. It’s safe. You need to come home.

  Those are the only words anyone has spoken. No explanation. No details or apologies for four years of shunning me like a pariah. They’ve restored my documents. My passport no longer bears the name, Charlene Graham. Thank goodness. Four years and I never once answered to Charlene unless someone screamed it in my face.

  I’d make a terrible spy.

  I’ve lost so much time. Time I’ll never get back. I’m twenty-two and I’ve never had a proper job. The last good thing to happen to me ended in so much devastation, I had to leave the country and change my name. That must be a sign.

  Love and me don’t mix.

  I’ve got nothing left. A degree. I’ve got my degree. With nothing to do, I finished school. But who’ll hire an interior designer with no experience? I can’t live with my parents and I don’t have a cent to my name. No home. No friends. Surely most have moved on with their lives while I’ve stood still for four years.

  Why did I come home? For him. You came home for him. Because you’re an idiot.

  It’s true. I am an idiot. Iggy’s moved on. Four years is a long time. Men don’t wait four years for women they never loved. And I don’t think my Iggy ever loved me.

  How would I know anything? I never met the real Igor Ivanov.

  Just let it go. He doesn’t owe me an explanation. I should have known better than to fall so quickly. But I wish I knew what went wrong. Why did he lie to me? Did he think I wouldn’t love him if I knew he’d been in prison? Did he really want to hurt me because I knew too much? What did I know? I gave up everything to protect him and he made me fear for my life.

  As soon as the bell pings, I unbuckle my belt and fly out of my seat. Pushing past an overbearing couple who haven’t stopped babbling about their children since we left Heathrow, I grab my carry-on luggage and dart into the jetway.

  As soon as I get home, I’m giving Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth a piece of my mind. No visits in four years. No birthday or Christmas gifts. No care packages to make me feel loved. I hardly expect them to pack it, but they could have directed a maid to do it for them. Only a few distracted calls a year to check if I was still alive and not fraternizing with anyone connected to Igor. Even for them, the neglect was over the top.

  Stewing down the escalator into baggage claim, I plan out my strategy. I’ve got a small line of credit on one credit card that should be enough for a cab home. There’s no way anyone’s picking me up. They didn’t suggest it and I didn’t bring it up. After I lay into them, I’ll head out and grab something to eat. I’m starving. Aunt Penelope offered her guest room until I get off my feet. She can’t give me a ride to Westchester, but I told her I’d find a way.

  And I will. I’m not useless.

  I might not have money, but I have jewelry to sell. Heirlooms that I may be able to buy back later. Maybe I’ll get enough for a hotel and a ticket to Tarrytown in the morning. If I need to sleep at Grand Central station, so be it. I’m home and I’m finally free to choose my own destiny.

  “Miss Wentworth?” A voice startles me and I look around for its source.

  “Miss Wentworth?” A familiar man appears and extends his hand.

  “Agent Moretti?” It’s the FBI agent who helped me relocate to Europe.

  “You remember me?” He takes my hand in his and signals his men to retrieve my luggage.

  “Of course, I do. How are you? They told you I was coming home, right? My parents didn’t go over your head, did they?” Fear grips me. I can’t go back. I’ll die if I need to get back on a plane.

  He nods. “We arranged your homecoming. We’ll take you into the city, sweetheart. We have much to discuss.”

  Two men whiz by with my luggage and we follow them to a limousine parked by the curb. “I
didn’t think TSA let you park here.”

  He laughs. “They make an exception for us.”

  I throw my hands in the air and laugh at my foolishness. “Oh, of course, FBI.” I’m so naïve.

  “Please get in, Miss Wentworth. May I call you Charlotte? It’s a long drive back to Manhattan.” He chuckles under his breath as we slide into the back seat.

  “And you’re Lorenzo, right?” I never forget a name. I don’t know any other Lorenzos. Besides, he’s dangerously handsome for someone in law enforcement.

  Not as handsome as my Igor. But...stop it Charlotte, he was never your Igor.

  “Are you comfortable? Have you spoken to your parents since you landed?” He settles into his seat and checks his watch.

  “I don’t have a cell phone. But they know to expect me soon. Thank you for giving me a ride. You just saved me so much money. Now, I can use my cab money towards a train ticket instead.” I check my notes and reshuffle the balance on my makeshift budget. When I tuck my pen back in my purse, I notice Lorenzo’s expression has altered dramatically. He looks nervous. Fidgety.

  “Are you okay? Why did you give me a lift, anyway? Am I being debriefed?” My hair stands on end. I’ve had too many surprises for one lifetime. I can’t take anymore.

  He lets out a deep breath. “I’ll start with an apology. A heartfelt apology from my brother, Leo Moretti...”

  I cut him off. “Leo Moretti? Your brother’s an agent, too?” My stomach sinks. I know this is heading somewhere else, but we’re speeding down the Long Island Expressway and there’s no way for me to exit the car.

  He shakes his head. “Forgive me for misleading you about who I am. I don’t work for the FBI. I work for my family. The Moretti Family.”

  My eyes shift to the door. I would never survive a jump on the open road. As soon as I hit the pavement, another car would run me down. “The Moretti’s? Are you...” I swallow hard and consider my words. I hate to stereotype Italians and assume the worst, but it’s hard not to make assumptions after Iggy. “Are you mafia?”

  He nods and my lip instantly quivers. “Lorenzo, I know nothing about your family. My ex-husband didn’t even tell me he was in the mob. Is that why they brought me home? To kill me?”

  I can’t restrain my sobs. I spent four years in a tiny apartment in London, studying, running and eating Lean Cuisines because I was too afraid and too poor to eat out. Why didn’t they kill me in London? Why give me hope of seeing Igor again?

  His arms reach out. “No, no, sweetheart. Please don’t cry. I told you, this is an apology. We wronged you. My family, the Ivanovs and your parents, wronged you, darling. And the Moretti’s right their wrongs. Leo and I want to make up for the pain we caused you over the last four years.”

  My mind focuses on one name only. “The Ivanovs? Iggy? He wronged me?”

  “Iggy? Oh, Igor. In a sense, yes, but I mean his family. His uncle. Allow me to explain. We’re meeting your parents for dinner and they’ll confess their own sins under pain of death. Do you understand? You deserve to hear them grovel for your forgiveness.”

  I nod and take his handkerchief. While I wipe my tears and struggle to hold back the dam teetering on a horrific explosion, I lean back and listen to him explain why I was only Charlotte Ivanov for three beautiful days.

  He lays it all out. Every sordid detail. The mug shots were fake. He was never in prison. Never arrested. My father is a dirty politician who sold out my happiness for the sake of his ambition. Igor’s uncle masterminded the entire thing. He called in favors to send me away and made Igor believe I left him for lying.

  With each revelation, my soul shrinks and my world crashes down around me. It was all a lie. My heart breaks over and over. I choke on so many tears, Lorenzo fears he might need to take me to the emergency room. But we carry on.

  I want to know everything.

  Nothing will ever be made right. Nothing can ever make up for the years I threw away. All of it was meaningless.

  I left for nothing.

  I gave up my Iggy, the love of my life, for nothing.

  Six

  Charlotte

  “How much is this place worth?” I walk through my new five-bedroom Park Slope brownstone, with a realtor named Tammy. It’s a gift from Leo Moretti and Yuri Ivanov, Igor’s cousin. Their fathers ruined my life. This extravagant gift is a way of showing remorse.

  “It’s worth four million. They built the place in the 1880s. One of the nicest on the block. In all of Brooklyn, if you ask me.” She lowers her bifocals and thumbs through the deed.

  “Four million! That’s too much!” I cover my mouth and look for my exit. I’ll be indebted for life. This is like something out of The Godfather. One day they’ll come to me with a favor. That day may never come, but if it does, I’m so screwed.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “This is a gift. A debt repaid. The Moretti’s right their wrongs and Mr. Ivanov wanted to make up for the hardship caused by his father. They purchased it together. And believe me, four million is nothing to them.” She waves her hand and gives me her lucky pen. “Sign here, sweetheart.”

  I take the papers and read them over, line by line. The print is large. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taxes have been paid in advance for ten years. Unbelievably generous. Everything is in my name with no mention of any Moretti’s or Ivanov’s. What choice do I have? I’ve got no one left but my Aunt Penny in Sleepy Hollow who will only take me in out of pity and then bug me day and night to look for a new place.

  I sign the dotted line and hand them back.

  I’ve got a four-million-dollar home. A million for every year they stole. But I’m alone. I didn’t expect to be all alone. Not again.

  I’ve been back a full day and I haven’t heard from Igor. Last night, after I threw hot tea at my father’s face and threatened my mother with a butter knife, Lorenzo felt it best I stay in a hotel and break out on my own. My parents will be dealt with accordingly. I’m not sure what that means and right now, I don’t care.

  This morning, Tammy showed up at my room, took me to breakfast and brought me here. I didn’t decide the location, but Brooklyn feels right. This is where I imagined Iggy and I would live and raise our babies. There’s more room. It feels cozier than Manhattan and I always assumed he’d open a law office just around the corner.

  It’s just an old dream I replayed in my mind on nights I thought I’d die of a broken heart. No matter what he’s done. No matter who he is now. I still love him. I can’t help it. Even in the deepest depths of my despair, I never regretted falling in love. What we had was beautiful.

  It was a once in a lifetime love. I knew it from the moment his smile first warmed my heart.

  I’d just finished my second day of design school when I boarded the subway from the 28th Street station in Rose Hill. I loved that little part of town. It was an escape from my parents. An escape from their stuffy little world where the only expectation they held was that I married soon, and I married well.

  That wasn’t for me. I had dreams of opening my own business. Charlotte Wentworth planned on bringing design out of the showroom and into practical living. Easy Street. That was the name of my pretend store. Simple design for easy living. Catchy, huh? Well, I thought I was a genius. That’s the way you think at eighteen. The world is just waiting for you to show up, work hard and conquer it with a marvelous idea and old-fashioned gumption.

  Yeah, right. Design school was another elitist enclave for rich girls looking for jobs that would put them in front of rich men who’d turn them into ladies of leisure. By the second day, I thought I’d had it. I boarded that train with steam coming out of my ears. All I wanted to do was go home, disappear into a good book and drown in a tub of bubbles. But that was easier said than done.

  The trains were packed. Every car was jammed to the gills with Friday commuters starting their Labor Day weekend a few hours early. There was nowhere to sit. At 5’2, I disappeared into the standing crowd and got pushed around left a
nd right. No manners. No chivalry. Not a gentleman in sight.

  Until.

  “Miss, please sit.” A tall auburn god with pale blue eyes dressed in a three-piece suit stood and pointed to his seat. Stunned by his beauty, I hesitated and a Wall Street jerk with a cell phone glued to his ear tried to steal it away.

  “Hey dickhead. I didn’t give it up for you. I gave it to her.” With his impressive stature, he blocked the man’s path and ushered me into his seat.

  “Thank you.” I gushed and slinked into his warm chair. When the lingering scent of his cologne penetrated my senses, I imagined his massive arms wrapped around my shivering body. The man was too beautiful for words and surely seconds from disappearing from my life forever. With that in mind, I made a bold move. I looked up and to my surprise, found those blue eyes staring back.

  “Hey.” His deep voice sounded like sweet music. His front teeth salaciously bit down into his bottom lip and a huge smile appeared. That was it. That was all it took. My heart shot out of my chest straight into his hands. He’s had it ever since.

  “Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Tammy startles me out of my daydream.

  “What? Yes. Is there anything else I need to know? Trash collection? How do I switch utilities to my name? Do you know of any odd jobs I can do for grocery money?” I own a home but have nothing in the bank.

  She chuckles and leaves a large envelope on the counter. “That won’t be necessary, angel. All the information you need is right here. Read these over. Your new bank card, pin code and account information are all here. Good luck and let me know if you need anything else.” She grabs her purse, waves goodbye and closes the front door as she leaves.

  I rush to bolt the door behind her. I’m alone, in a strange house gifted to me by two leaders of the mob. And if Lorenzo was being honest, Iggy’s not just a mob lawyer anymore. He’s entrenched. Made. Possibly dangerous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t reached out. Maybe it’s better this way.