Empire

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Stop,” Nixon hissed in an angry tone. “You attacking him accomplishes nothing, let him speak.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded as Nixon shoved me back toward the couch where Val was curled up. The girls had stayed home. I really wished they hadn’t, because Val needed someone, something, and I couldn’t give it to her, not now, maybe not ever.

  How do you comfort someone in this type of situation? I’m sorry that I was married to your best friend and didn’t know it? I’m sorry she abandoned you, may have betrayed you, and hurt you? I’m sorry that I loved her?

  I’m sorry that I’m falling for you too?

  Shit, it was messed up. And for the first time since Andi’s death, I felt anger toward her, actual anger.

  I hated it.

  Phoenix walked over to the sound system and popped in a DVD then grabbed the remote and pressed play.

  The screen was black.

  And then it was filled with Andi.

  I bit out a curse as she smiled, her body so frail and worn from the cancer that she was almost unrecognizable. She had put on makeup, but the dark circles under her eyes were still noticeable, the glassy expression that she wore during her last two weeks, one where you could almost swear they were caught between heaven and hell. It was an expression of sadness and waiting, but it was also an expression of peace.

  “Surprise!” she said in a loud voice as she spread her arms wide. “And don’t be mad,” she coughed out. “Sergio.”

  And God I wanted to be mad, but she made it damn near impossible.

  “First…” She shrugged. “I need to explain myself.” She bit down on her lip and frowned. “I was sent to New York first. I worked for your dad, Val.” Tears filled her eyes. “He saved me. I know you didn’t know that, but he saved me from my father. He used to work for the FBI, but my real dad was Russian Mob. Sergio can fill you in. Those details aren’t really important. What’s important is that you know, the moment I met you, I was jealous. Insanely, out of this world jealous. I knew who you were, and I knew who you were going to end up with. It was the perfect setup for the families, and while I worked for your father, I was supposed to be gaining intel on Xavier, who, newsflash, is bat shit crazy, so you guys better shut down whatever he’s brewing over there. Anyways, I was under cover, but as things started brewing between my family and the Italians, I was sent to Eagle Elite to start school, with the goal of infiltrating, so basically I’m like a bad ass double agent. That was around the time I found out my leukemia was back, and I knew it was kind of like one of those missions you go on where you know you’ll never make it back.” A tear escaped, sliding down her cheek.

  She wiped it away and shrugged. “I didn’t want you to remember me like this.” She pointed down at herself. “Frail and diseased. You were and still are my best friend. The plan was never for me to end up with Sergio, I’m sure you know that by now. But my father was coming after me, and it was the only way. And I’m so sorry.” More tears fell. “I’m sorry that I stole his kisses.”

  My heart clenched in my chest.

  “I’m sorry I stole those moments from you, moments you should have had first.” She smiled. “But I can’t be sorry I had him. And I know you well enough to know, you probably feel the same way. If I was in that room right now, you’d slap me then hug me, then slap me again. I know you. You’re good. So maybe you’d just shove me or something, since good girls don’t slap.” She winked. I scooted closer to Val and wrapped my arm around her as she started to sob into her hands. “Please don’t be mad, Val. You were one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I wish I could have stayed in touch, but Luca made me swear to keep your identity a secret, and once he died, everything kind of… came to the surface. I did write you, just so you know. The letters were supposed to be delivered right before your first meeting with the beast.” She laughed. “Oh, by the way, Sergio, that’s you, both beast and prince, because if I know you well, and I’d like to think I do, you were all bark with very little bite. You had moments of tenderness and then regret. A process I’m sure you’re still struggling not to repeat over and over again.”

  I squeezed Val’s shoulder as shame washed over me.

  “So, the letters. There’s one more for you to read, Val. Phoenix will give it to you, and by then, I think you’ll know what you need to do. Please don’t be mad. This was the only way… the only way I could think of to give you guys a chance.”

  Her eyes clouded with tears. “Sergio. I wrote you a letter on your wedding day releasing you, I hope you finally understand that you never needed my permission, you already had it, you have it. I want happiness for both of you but mostly, I made this video to ask for forgiveness, my intention was never to hurt anyone but to help heal.” She shrugged. “Sergio, you’re a smart man, kiss the girl, it’s so much easier then pushing her away and making her cry. And Val, let him love you, his love is great.” She sighed. “He has so much to offer, and I’d like to think this life right now, between you two, is just the beginning of something beautiful. Wouldn’t that be great?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she smiled brightly. “Because, my ending, my favorite ending would be one where my best friend marries my best friend. I can’t imagine anything better than the love of my life falling for the only best friend I’d ever had. That,” She nodded. “Is pretty spectacular.”

  With a heavy sigh, she hung her head and stared directly at the camera.

  “I love you both. Be happy.”

  The screen went black.

  I didn’t know what to say, how to feel.

  Because my concern was for the girl sitting on the couch with me, the girl quietly sobbing into her hands whispering over and over again, “She’s dead, my best friend is dead.”

  With a curse, I wrapped my arms around her while she sobbed for my dead wife.

  Not how I imagined the first few weeks of marriage between us, not at all.

  I glared at the guys from over her head and nodded toward the door. I imagined they all came just in case they needed to keep me in check. I didn’t blame them. I’d been losing my shit a lot lately.

  “Val.” I kissed her head. “Do you want me to call Dante?”

  She shook her head.

  The front door shut, blanketing the house in silence.

  “Do you need anything to eat?”

  What the hell? Like that would make her feel better? A hamburger? Her best friend just died, and I offered to make a McDonald’s run? I mentally slapped myself and hugged her tighter, trying to remember what had made me feel better after Andi’s death.

  The door opened and shut again.

  “Go away,” I barked.

  Phoenix held a white envelope in his hand. “The last letter.”

  Val pulled away from me but didn’t look up.

  A clap of thunder shook the house as the sound of rain started pattering against the roof.

  “Thanks, Phoenix,” I said gruffly, snatching the envelope out of his hands and handing it to Val.

  Phoenix nodded and left.

  And once again, it was just us.

  Only this time the angry storm was our background music, like a reminder that everything had been ravaged, destroyed, tossed around.

  “Can you read it?” Val asked in a small voice.

  “Yeah.” I licked my lips, opened the letter, and read aloud. “Life is full of two-twirl moments — don’t allow her to settle for only one.”

  Val frowned. “I thought it was for me? The last letter?”

  I sighed, chest heavy, stood and held out my hand. “It was.”

  “What?” She grabbed my hand as I pulled her to her feet and started walking us toward the front door. “What are we doing?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Instead, I pulled her out into the rainstorm as thunder bellowed. I kept walking.

  Val followed.

  I stopped once we were in the middle of the field and lifted my head toward the sky as rain splashed across my face, the cold both numbing and rev
iving me simultaneously.

  “Sergio?” Val ducked her head into my chest.

  “She died here.” I pointed to the ground. “Watching the sunrise. Smiling. Happy. Peaceful.”

  Val choked back a sob.

  “So this is where we dance.” I announced turning toward her. “This is where we twirl.”

  “But—”

  “Life…” I couldn’t believe it, but I was channeling Andi. Something snapped inside my bitter chest, like a crack that finally allowed the sun to break through. Val needed to mourn, but she also needed to see that Andi’s life was a celebration. I’d been given that chance. She hadn’t. “…is meant to be lived — felt — experienced. Why spend your life walking — when you can dance?” I gripped both of her hands and started dancing with her in the field as memories of Andi’s life flashed through my mind.

  Her smile.

  The way she laughed.

  Slowly, I held up my hand as Val twirled once beneath my arm, her face finally breaking out into a smile as rain poured down her face mixing with her tears.

  “Again,” I whispered as I held her close. “Two twirls, you deserve two twirls.”

  She twirled three times and then wrapped her arms around my neck, her warm lips touching my skin with a sizzle. “The last letter was for us.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  “What?” I pulled back searching her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sorry that I’m falling for you. I should be sorry, but I’m not. I’m torn between wishing my best friend was here — and feeling guilty that I’m glad it’s me…” She shook her head. “Glad that it’s me, dancing with you, twirling, because not having you in my life terrifies me more than death.”

  “Val—” I cursed. “I don’t want you to be sorry for that.”

  “No?”

  “I’m not sorry either,” I whispered. “I miss her more than life itself… and she’ll always be here.” I placed Val’s hand on my chest. “But the really great part about being human is our hearts grow, they make room, they have no parameters for how big or how much they can love, and even though I’m not worthy, I’m honored that you’re willing to share space with someone I loved — I’m falling for you too, and I’m not sorry for it. I’m only sorry that the road was marked with so much pain for you — and for her.”

  “Kiss me.” Her hands tugged greedily at my shirt. “Please. Because, that was really romantic, and I’m still sad, and I don’t want to be sad, I don’t want to be sad…”

  “It’s okay to be sad.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s okay to cry.”

  “I know.”

  “Val…” I brushed a kiss across her lips. “What do you want? Just tell me.”

  “You.” She sighed. “I want you.”

  What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?—A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Valentina

  SERGIO HAD ALWAYS been beautiful — masculine in the way the lines of his face met each other. Everything from the contouring of his cheeks to the fullness of his lips had me wondering if he was some sort of misplaced knight from a storybook.

  What made it worse was his hair.

  Just slightly past his ears, it curled near the nape of his neck, just begging for a girl to give it a little tug.

  But wet.

  Sergio. Wet.

  Sergio. Wet and strong.

  Sergio being my rock.

  That was sexy.

  Never in my life had I needed him to step up to the plate more… and never in my life had I doubted so much — that he’d fail to do it, after all, it was his dead wife.

  I expected him to cry with me, to run off, to blame me, to pull at every ounce of bitterness he still had and toss it in my direction.

  “Let’s go.” He tugged me against his chest as we walked side-by-side back to the house.

  Once we were inside and the door was shut, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the ground, then shrugged out of his jeans and repeated the process until he was completely naked.

  I went from sobbing to gaping. From cold, to sizzling.

  “Here.” With a gruff curse he tugged my shirt over my head and moved his warm hands to my hips as he slowly rolled down my leggings, then pulled my boots off, tugging the leggings over my stocking clad feet.

  How unfair.

  He was naked and beautiful.

  And I had on my bra, panties, and ugly wool socks.

  “I think my grandma had a pair of those.” He pointed at them and smirked. “Which means they need to go.”

  “Chicago’s cold,” I said with a tremor in my voice.

  “Maybe if your husband wasn’t such an ass, you wouldn’t have to wear wool socks.” He leaned down, his muscled thighs tightening as he gripped one foot and tugged the sock off, then grabbed the other. “Because you’d be sleeping with him instead.”

  “He’s only an ass sometimes.” I felt the need to defend him.

  Sergio looked up at me from underneath dark eyelashes. “You don’t need to butter me up with compliments, Val. I’m already going to sleep with you.”

  “Like now.” I grinned ignoring the way my foot felt in his hand, and how my skin buzzed with his tender touch. “Right now you’re only kind of an ass.”

  “You smiled.” He stood to his full height then cupped my face. “Which means I’m doing something right.”

  Sighing, I wrapped my arms around his naked body. “You do a lot of things right, it’s the whole after you do the right thing that really pisses me off… you know. Kissing, then running away, sleeping with me then slamming doors, sharing fun intimate details, then threatening to kill me—

  “I get the point.” He held up his hand.

  “Are you sure? Because I think I have more examples.”

  “I’m good.” He nodded. “Thanks though, makes a man feel good that you have all of those incidents stored right up here.” He tapped the side of my head. “Now… you said something about not being sad.”

  “I’m not sad,” I lied as a choking wave of anxiety washed over me. She was his first. He was my first. “I mean I am. I’m sad. I miss her. And it makes me feel like I can’t breathe and then, when I’m done missing her, I’m angry.”

  “Okay.” He picked me up as though I weighed nothing and carried me up the stairs. “I know anger, we’re practically best friends.”

  “And here I thought you didn’t have friends.”

  “I have you,” he whispered. “Now, stop attacking me, I’m not the one you’re angry with, at least this time.”

  “That’s true, it would be easier if it was your fault.”

  “Would you like me to take the blame? Be the punching bag? I can do that, if it helps. I’d be more than happy to be on the receiving end of a black eye; I imagine I’d be your first recipient.”

  He walked us into his room then placed me on the bed and went into the large marble bathroom. There was glass everywhere, no privacy whatsoever. How did he live that way? I shivered at the raw sexuality he emitted by merely walking, the muscles in his legs shifted and tugged all the way up his tight as sin ass.

  My body broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of water, and then he was walking back toward me. It was almost impossible to keep my eyes on his face when there were other parts of his body fighting for my attention.

  At least it was a distraction.

  He was a distraction.

  Yet, every time I looked at him, I saw her touching him, loving him, pleasing him, and it made me sick to my stomach.

  I wanted to scream with jealousy while at the same time sob with the unfairness of her death.

  “Hey.” Suddenly Sergio was in front of me. “You’re still angry.”

  “Yeah.” I gripped the comforter with my fist and twisted, afraid that if I used my words, said all the horrible things I was thinking, he would hate me. I felt bad enough for even thinking them, let alone speaking them out loud.

/>   “It’s a new bed.” He pointed down at my hand. “So you don’t need to take out your aggression on the pillows and down.” He gently grabbed my hand releasing my fingers from the comforter. “Do you really think I’m that much of an ass? That I’d bring you into my room, strip you naked… on the very same bed? With the very same scents?”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak and not scream. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Val.” Sergio frowned. “I’m trying here, but you have to meet me halfway. Normally, you speak what’s on your mind, normally you’re only quiet because you’re pissed at me, and I can fix that. But I can’t fix this unless you tell me what’s going on inside your head.”

  I sighed.

  “Fine.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me off the bed. Once my feet hit the bathroom tile, they immediately warmed, heated tile? A giant old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub waited in the corner. “I’ll go first.”

  “Go?” I frowned.

  “I’m angry,” he whispered, “that she didn’t tell you who she was.”

  “Me too.” My voice shook.

  “I’m angry…” His mouth met my ear in a wet whisper as he unhooked my bra and slowly pulled it free from my body. “That I’m torn between missing her and being pissed at her for making you sad.”

  That made two of us.

  His hands moved down my hips, fingers hooking into my underwear as he slid them down to my ankles, his lips met the back of my thigh. “I’m angry that for the first time in weeks, I have you naked, and you aren’t blushing.”

  I blushed, basically, on cue as it dawned on me that I was completely without clothes in front of him, with every single bathroom light shining on my body.

  “That’s better.” He stood and pulled me back against him. “Anger isn’t bad, Val. It’s normal to feel anger. Anger turns deadly when you allow it to control other emotions, because then you go from having a natural response to a supernatural reaction that manifests and eats its way through every positive area of your life.”

  Tears welled in my eyes, I held them back, because they weren’t the sad kind, they were the angry kind, and I knew if I let them fall, I’d do something stupid, like yell, or say all the things I shouldn’t say.