Empire

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “I…” Embarrassed, I looked down. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he whispered. “Do it again.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  “Hit me.”

  “I’m not going to hit you.”

  “You’re a spoiled rotten little child, who’s a danger to herself and should be given her own curfew along with a glass of juice every damn night. Slap me.”

  So I did.

  He winced, then took a step back and rubbed his jaw, his fingertips tapping against the spot I’d just hit. “That’s good.”

  “You were mean.”

  “I’m always mean.”

  Man had a point.

  “Slapping is fine for girls.” Sergio crossed his arms. “But we need to teach you how to escape. Had I been two minutes later, had I hesitated and gone to the bathroom, grabbed a glass of water, answered my phone — we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So I’m going to teach you how to survive, and you’re not going to bitch about it, and you sure as hell aren’t going to cry. Got it?”

  There was something terrifying about the way he spoke to me, about how he was able to get under my skin, but made it seem like the most normal thing in my world.

  He made violence look easy.

  He made it appear necessary.

  He made me believe I needed it.

  “Okay.” I nodded probably five times, trying to convince myself that agreeing with a guy who, about ten minutes ago, was snapping a dude’s neck, was a stellar idea.

  “I’m going to come at you.” Sergio held out his hands. “I want you to fight me off. I don’t want you to worry about hurting me, believe me when I say, I’ve had the worst of the worst, so…” His smile mocked me. “Do your worst, little girl.”

  He’d just called me “little girl.”

  I wanted to stab him in the throat.

  AH! Stupid effing mafia.

  I couldn’t even say more than effing.

  It made me blush.

  If I had trouble cursing in my head, how was I supposed to attack… that?

  I choked on my spit, trying to swallow and take a breath at the same time, then waited while he charged me.

  His muscled arms grabbed my body, pinning mine to the side.

  All I had were my legs.

  So I stomped on his feet.

  He didn’t even move.

  So I kneed him in the balls. He dropped like a stone, his face stark white as a garbled sound squeaked past his tightly drawn lips.

  Breath whooshed out as he made a gargled sound then yelled, “Fucking hell!” He touched his face. “What was that for?”

  “You said you’ve had the worst of the worst!” I shot back. “And that I needed to escape!”

  A pained laugh escaped. “I deserved that, I think.”

  “You did.” I smiled proudly.

  “Help me up?”

  I took his outstretched hand, only to have him tug me down the floor and as he stretched out on top of me and whispered. “Survive.”

  “That was a mean trick.”

  “Necessary,” he murmured. “Because the minute I was down, you should have run like hell.”

  “Oh, good idea. I’ll just run back upstairs to the room with the body in it! That seems like a really poor life choice.”

  “It’s dead.” His eyes did that weird searching thing as he gazed down at me. “What could it possibly do to you?”

  “Well…” I licked my lips. “Turn into a cocaine addicted zombie?”

  “Nice imagination there, Val. Is it going to force you to do drugs too?”

  “Yes,” I stammered. “And I listened in school during the drug talk thank you very much.”

  “I bet you did.” He seemed to find humor in that as his lips twitched. “Straight A’s? And let me guess, you got one of those shiny certificates they give out for having perfect attendance.”

  My cheeks burned.

  “You’re blushing,” he pointed out. “So it must be true.”

  I said nothing. What was there to say? He seemed to know everything already.

  “Did you even go to prom?” He picked and prodded at every insecurity I had — swear.

  “Can you get off of me now?”

  I wasn’t sure what I’d said but he suddenly looked horrified and then smug.

  “What? Why are you giving me that funny look?”

  “Was I your first kiss?”

  “Sergio.” I kept my voice firm. “You’re literally crushing my body right now.”

  He lifted his weight off but kept me pinned, straddling me and then slowly moved his hands to my face as he tilted my chin toward him. “Answer.”

  “I’ve never met someone so demanding in my entire life. And I live with three overprotective uncles and a twin.”

  “Just answer the question, Val.”

  I wanted to look away but his gaze held me. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he prompted.

  “Yes,” I yelled. “All right? You were my first kiss. And now that my humiliation is complete I’d REALLY like to sleep on the couch and try to forget the fact that you probably still have blood on your hands.

  “Washed,” he answered gruffly, and when I gave him a doubtful look he pulled one hand up and showed me. “I know how to get blood off my hands.”

  “Well if that isn’t the most uncomforting statement…”

  “How was it?” He licked his lips again, this time leaning in.

  “Bloody.” I refused to suffer more humiliation.

  “Val,” he said my name slowly, drawing it out, like he wanted to say it, like I wanted to hear a man say it. Which was so stupid, but when you’re in the moment, when you have over two hundred pounds of muscle straddling you, and looking at you, not through you, how are you supposed to respond? It’s not like I could swoon, I was already lying down and I wasn’t the type, I was more terrified of him than I was attracted.

  Mostly.

  His blue eyes flashed.

  Okay, so not mostly.

  But he was violent.

  Snapped a man’s neck, snapped… a… man’s… neck!

  His hand moved from my chin to my hair and then to the back of my head as he gently pulled me until we were about a half an inch away from tasting one another. “I can do better.”

  “Don’t,” I whispered.

  He jerked back a bit. “Don’t kiss you?”

  “Please.” I was ready to plead with him, like he held my life in the palm of his hand, when really, it was just my heart, but just as important to a girl who needed to build a fortress of concrete and locks around it. “Don’t toy with me.”

  “Kissing is just kissing.” He didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. I knew it, he knew it.

  “Not for me,” I said urgently. “Please, Sergio, please get off of me. I’m tired.”

  Surprisingly, he moved off of me and helped me to my feet, but the minute I tried to go back up the stairs he tugged me back. “You’re stuck with me tonight. Don’t worry I’ll sleep on the floor, Frank has a cleanup crew coming in a few minutes, so it looks like I should add another few logs to the fire. You take the couch.”

  “But—”

  “For once in your life, try not arguing when someone is doing everything in their power to keep you safe, yes?”

  “Yes.” Properly scolded, I grabbed the afghan from the chair and wrapped my body in it like a little mummy then lay down on the couch.

  Watching him stoke the fire was probably a bad idea, a very bad idea, because the outline of his body in the firelight was beautiful.

  It made a girl want to throw caution to the wind.

  He was going to be my husband.

  And the sucky part.

  He would never actually be mine.

  “Stop sighing,” he said without turning around. “It’s stressing me out.”

  “You? Stressed?”

  “Me,” he said in a clipped voice. “Stressed. I am human you know.”

/>   “Hmm.”

  “What? No snarky comment?” Another log was tossed onto the fire sending sparks flying into the air. “Nothing?”

  “You can kill someone in less than one point two seconds.” I shivered.

  “You counted?”

  “Not the point.” I turned on my back so I’d stop staring at him like some freak. “The point is, maybe I should learn not to poke the ninja bear.”

  “Ninja bear?” he repeated. “I think you can come up with a more bad ass name than Ninja bear.”

  “Nope, Ninja bear it is.” I felt somewhat satisfied that his nickname bothered him. “Goodnight.”

  “Val?”

  “Yes?”

  The crackling of the fire was starting to grate on my nerves only because it made me more tense. My body was going to be sore from all of the tightening of my muscles on that stupid couch.

  Well, that and the fact I probably had a Sergio sized bruise on my front side from him lying across me.

  “Don’t be scared.”

  “I won’t.” My answer was quick, swift, because at least I knew that if it came down to me or some random guy who broke into our house, he’d choose me, every time.

  And then a thought occurred.

  What if his wife was still alive?

  Would he choose her or me? Who would he keep alive?

  Her.

  Every.

  Single.

  Time.

  “Don’t fall in love with me,” he’d said.

  Well, don’t worry, I can’t compete, I probably never could.

  “Hey, Sergio?”

  He turned off the lights and was rustling next to the couch. “What?”

  “Tell me a story.”

  Groaning, I heard a curse and then. “I’m exhausted, Val.”

  “You were the one who said I was a child, and children get stories, I’ll wait…”

  “Pain in my ass.”

  “What was that?”

  “So this grumpy prince…” He yawned. “Lived in a castle and was mean to everyone, including his royal subjects, what they didn’t know was that the beast thought that by being fierce he would earn respect. One day a fairy visited—”

  “Are you re-writing beauty and the beast?” Familiarity washed over me, it was a coincidence, nothing more, that he was talking about Beauty and the Beast.

  “Are you interrupting story time?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Nobody understands the beast,” Sergio murmured. “Beasts lash out because they are taught only violence, and yet it’s this huge shock to everyone when things go awry. Beasts are fierce because they protect what they love. Fierceness has nothing to do with being bad, and everything to do with honoring the good…”

  He was convinced about it.

  Like he was the beast.

  “I don’t think you’re a beast, Sergio.”

  “Some days… I think I’m both beast and prince… I just know how to hide it… but the tipping point is always there, and just because the beast protects, doesn’t mean he’s good. Don’t confuse my purpose with other emotions. You’ll only get hurt.”

  “I’m well aware of your purpose.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Sure.” It was my turn to yawn. “Protect the princess in the tower, give her a kiss, and lock her back in.”

  He didn’t answer.

  But maybe it was better that way, because at least then I could imagine a world where his answer was to break me out of the tower, carry me away, and profess his love.

  That’s how stories were supposed to end.

  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that mine wasn’t going to be anywhere near a Happily Ever After ending. It was time to grow up.

  Time to accept my fate.

  As a woman.

  …But I will wed thee in another key; with pomp, with triumph, and with reveling. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Sergio

  I WAS IN the clouds.

  There was blood on my hands.

  A gun in my right.

  A knife in my left.

  “Where am I?” I wondered aloud.

  “Mafia heaven.” Andi appeared in front of me, dressed in white, just like on our wedding day.

  I fell to my knees and hugged her body, burying my face against her full skirt, but tears wouldn’t come.

  “All dried up? How DARE you!” She laughed and then pulled away and twirled a few times, only to stop and stare at me. “I’m happy.”

  “Good.” I choked on the word. “I’m not.”

  Her face fell. “And whose fault do you think that is?”

  “I hate this dream.”

  “Dreams are simply our brains’ way of processing emotions, life, stress.” She shrugged. “I’m in your dream because you’re still processing, that’s okay, but so is she…”

  “She?” Confused, I looked to where she was pointing. The couch appeared in front of me where Val hugged her body, and a tear ran down her cheek. I reached for her but she disappeared.

  “You know you’re doing a shitty job when her tears outnumber her smiles.”

  “Hell.” I wiped my face with my hands. “She’s not you.”

  “Right.” Andi nodded. “Because if she were, that would mean you were screwing a ghost. Gross, Italy”

  I reached for Andi again but she stepped away and danced in front of me. I could watch her for days — years.

  “I miss you,” I whispered.

  But it was as if she didn’t hear me. She just kept dancing around in front of me, and then she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m gone, Sergio.”

  “I know but—”

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” She started to disappear in front of my eyes. “I’m gone.”

  And then when I couldn’t see her anymore the wind whispered.

  “But I’m whole.”

  I jerked awake in a cold sweat, tears running down my cheeks. I furiously wiped at them then caught a movement from the corner of my eye. Val sat up with a wide-eyed stare.

  And then without saying anything, she slowly moved from the couch to the floor and held out her hand.

  I stared at it.

  With a huge sigh, she reached for my hand and picked it up, squeezed, and didn’t let go.

  I was still staring at our hands pressed together when she tugged me down to a sleeping position, still beside me.

  Too upset to sleep, I stared at the spot just above her forehead where her pretty hair parted to the side.

  “Tell me about her,” Val whispered.

  My eyes stung with unshed tears.

  “She was… brave.” There was so much more, but the words wouldn’t get past my lips.

  Val didn’t respond. I thought she was asleep, but when I glanced down, she was staring at me as if to encourage me to go on.

  So I did.

  “And beautiful, and irritating as hell, and freakishly loud, and extremely violent.” It was like once I started talking I couldn’t stop. “She held me at gun point more than I’d like to admit, kicked my ass twice, and liked to wake me up at six a.m. just to piss me off. She made me promise not to cry over her, and here I am waking up with tears. God, I hate weakness.”

  “So she kicked your ass?” Val smiled. “And she irritated you?”

  “You would fixate on those two things.”

  “Well, the tears are depressing.”

  “True.”

  Somehow I’d pulled her closer, and it felt good, comforting. Damn, I’d been too long without comfort, like a man making his penance in the Sahara without food and water. I clung to her like a lifeline.

  “I’m not her.” Val shrugged. “And just because I’m saying yes, doesn’t mean I’m taking her place.”

  “I know.”

  “No.” Val smiled sadly. “You don’t. But that’s okay. Just know that whenever you want to talk about her, I’ll listen.”

  She tucked her head into my shoulder and closed her eyes.


  And just like that, one of the broken pieces from two months ago floated up off the ground and found its rightful place in the corner of my heart.

  One piece.

  Out of a million.

  But it was a start.

  I WOKE UP pressed against Val. Unlike Andi, she wasn’t a violent sleeper, but apparently, Andi had left that gift with me. My arms were sprawled all over Val, and somehow I was halfway on top of her, pressing my head between the valley of her breasts.

  Like a teen trying to motorboat a stripper.

  Shit.

  I backed away slowly so I wouldn’t wake her up, only to see her eyes lock on mine.

  Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.

  “You done?” she asked, her breathing a bit heavy.

  I opened my mouth then closed it.

  A pan, or something that sounded like one, dropped in the kitchen. Laughing commenced and the moment disappeared.

  I scrambled off her and stood. “Thanks, Val.”

  I didn’t want to add for last night because that made it sound sordid, like we’d done more than just slept together, and I was about five seconds away from doing the walk of shame back to my hotel room.

  “Anytime…” Her pretty smile grew. She was beautiful, not just pretty but beautiful. I wanted to hate her beauty. Her beauty meant I had to stay away. Instead, I found myself staring at her, really staring.

  “Sis!” Dante charged into the room. “Your hair looks like a bird took a shit in it.”

  I fought back a smile as Val’s hands moved to her head and with a gasp she tried pulling the pieces of golden brown into a ponytail.

  It just made it look worse.

  I honestly hadn’t even noticed her hair.

  Just her face.

  Her gorgeous full lips and wide innocent eyes.

  Damn me.

  With a curse I turned around and called back, “I’ll see you guys at church.”

  “Church!” Val yelled. “What time is it?”

  “Late!” Dante answered, and running commenced right before I left and slammed the screen door behind me.

  The New York City air was brisk, cold, the perfect chill to get rid of the fact that I’d been aroused when I’d awakened up with Val’s soft body pressed against me.

  Which was the exact opposite of what we both needed.

  To confuse our relationship more.