Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  I actually smiled at that, standing when the train came to a stop. Daniel got to his feet along with me and followed me through the open doors and out of the station. I was three stops away from my apartment, but I didn’t want him knowing where I lived.

  “Here’s your coat,” I said as I shrugged it off. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather in your frail condition without it.” My body temperature plummeted without the outer garment, and I immediately missed his scent that had surrounded me.

  “Frail?”

  I squeezed his biceps, which were solid. I gave him an apologetic look. “Definitely frail.” Definitely lying. “Now get back into the station before you freeze.” I handed him his coat, which he didn’t seem to want to take.

  “Keep it,” he said, still sounding miffed.

  “I’ll be fine. I have a lot of energy, so I can get home in a flash.” I gave him another saccharine smile, and sauntered off, stopping after a few steps, turning back to him. He was still standing at the mouth of the subway, coat draped over his arm like an accessory. “Where do you want to go, Daniel?”

  For a moment, he appeared caught off guard. The question was innocent enough, a generic, run of the mill, everyday kind of question. Yet I knew it meant more to him. Just like that picture meant more to me.

  He’s not going to answer.

  I focused my expectant gaze on him. If he wanted off this hook, he’d have to find his own way.

  “Iceland.”

  I hid my surprise at such an obscure answer and then turned away, heading down the sidewalk. I half expected him to follow me. He didn’t.

  When I got into my frigid apartment and changed into my thermal underwear, flannel pajamas, a hoodie, and three pairs of socks, and settled under two blankets, I realized he hadn’t once demanded I go out with him. No. Everything he did today was about getting to know me and nothing more. He’d upped his game.

  Chapter 10

  DANIEL

  * * *

  Present

  * * *

  “WHAT THE FUCK has gotten into you?” Donato asked as the tennis ball sailed past him for the umpteenth time this afternoon. I was taking out my frustration on the little green ball, and in the process beating myself to a pulp. “I won’t complain about kicking your ass on the court, but this is aggressive even for you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  “Sounds like it,” he said in disbelief, walking toward the center of the court. “I’m done here. Quitting while I’m ahead.”

  “I have somewhere to be anyway.” Fuck, I sounded like a sulky kid, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Don’t be mad because an old man ran circles around you on the court today.” This wasn’t a jab. It was Donato’s way of trying to get me to talk without getting too touchy feely. He knew I didn’t go for that shit. He wasn’t exactly a teddy bear either, except when it came to his wife and children.

  “First time for everything.”

  Donato took a bottle of water from the ice chest beside the court and handed it to me. I unscrewed the cap and downed half the contents. We got together at least once a week, when weather permitted, to play tennis on the private rooftop court at his penthouse. My mother had taught me how to play. Donato fed the addiction, helped me get better. I wasn’t half bad, but the stress relief was the appeal for me.

  Donato moved to a set of chairs and sank into one. I dropped into the seat next to his. “I’ve come to a decision about Vinny,” he started, and I darted a look at him. “My judgment has been clouded in regard to him. No need to rehash the reasons why again.” He ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “Vinny has proven repeatedly he’s not to be trusted. You and I will handle the important business, as we have been. We cannot allow him to sabotage what we’ve built. We need to keep him on a short leash. A choke chain.”

  “How did he take it when you told him you recovered the paint‐ ing?” We hadn’t had a chance to discuss it, but to say I’d been preoccupied was an understatement.

  “Outwardly, he appeared relieved, but he wasn’t happy. I made like I was looking for the thief. I decided it was in our best interest to continue to behave as if we’re oblivious to his doings. When he gets cocky, he fucks up.”

  “No matter what, he fucks up,” I muttered.

  Donato didn’t disagree, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees. He dropped his head for a moment before looking back at me. “I was hoping Vinny would step up, do things the right way. It would free you. Get you out of this world. There will come a day when I won’t be here, and I don’t want you to be stuck.” He spoke as if that were in the distant future when we both knew otherwise.

  “I’m only in it because of you,” I confessed.

  Donato’s eyes softened at the admission. “I know that,” he said. Guess I was more transparent than I thought. Donato’s gaze sharpened, his mouth turning hard. “The authorities have me shackled, especially with this new development. They’ll use whatever leverage they can to get what they want. It’s always money, and sometimes blood.”

  “What more could they possibly want now?” I asked bitterly. My businesses operated on the wrong side of the law at times, but I managed to stay on the good side of the authorities. Thanks to Donato, they pretty much left me alone.

  “They want to know who owned the Cézanne. Where we got it,” Donato said, running his hand through his hair once again. That painting had been stolen over twenty years ago from a museum in Prague and had been hiding in a private collection ever since. Owning it was a serious crime, selling it a great risk. Brokering the sale of stolen goods on the black market could be dodgy, especially when the authorities wanted to use it as leverage.

  “Why would the feds put you in that position?”

  “Because they fucking can. No matter what I do, how many years I’ve fed them whatever they want to know, it’s never enough,” he grumbled, his face turning dark. “That’s one reason I let Vinny handle the deal, to keep you out of it. They’ve been breathing down my neck about it.” Donato’s eyes met mine, his jaw set the way it did when he was forced into a decision he didn’t like but had resolved to see through. “When the owners go down, Vinny will look like the rat.”

  I digested the implication of what Donato had said. To think I’d doubted his decision to let Vinny take the lead on such a big deal. He’d chosen me over his brother, protecting me over blood, which only reinforced the tough decisions I’d had to make. The people we’d gotten that painting from would kill anyone who betrayed them. Donato had made sure they didn’t know I existed.

  “That must have been a difficult decision,” I said carefully. How do you thank a man who has saved your life on more than one occasion? Not with words. For once I was going to protect him, by doing what was necessary.

  He reached over and covered the hand resting on my knee. “Actually, it wasn’t at all.” Donato asked me with his eyes to see what he wanted me to hear. That he cared about me. But I couldn’t do it. Breakers began to flip inside me, shutting me down. He saw my protective shield rise into place, disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Donato never pushed me, not when it came to letting him in. I simply could not acknowledge how I felt about him, and I couldn’t stand to hear his feelings about me.

  “I need to go,” I said, standing abruptly.

  Donato stood with me. “Stay for dinner. Teresa is coming over and bringing the kids.” She was his youngest daughter. The “kids” he referred to were his grown grandchildren.

  “Enjoy your time with them.” The man made it difficult to say no to him, so I avoided uttering the actual words as often as possible.

  “Daniel.” The way he said my name made me uncomfortable. We stood at the top of the stairs that led to the interior of his apartment. “I can tell something other than Vinny is eating at you. I’m guessing it’s Vivian. I don’t know her, but I’ve had a lot of experience with relationships. I’d be more than happy to discuss how to fix the
mistake you’re making. Because I’m sure I’ve made it. At least twice.” He said it lightly, so I could tolerate it. Before I could answer, he held up both hands. “I know. I know. Just reminding you I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” I said tersely. No amount of advice could fix my problems. I preferred to spend valuable time getting answers about a subject we’d been avoiding for days. “How much time have we got?”

  He narrowed his gaze as if I’d insulted him. “I’m not sure,” he bit out, knowing exactly what I was referring to.

  “Any idea who’s stirred up this shit again?”

  “Not yet.” The unspoken in that statement was that he would find out. And when he did find out who was framing him, I almost pitied the person. Almost. Except they were dredging up my shit too.

  I shifted the tennis racquet from one hand to the other. “I’m at a dead end. I haven’t heard from them again.” I looked toward the sky. “All the fucked up shit my dear old dad was into is really coming back to bite us.” I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat as I tried to clear my mind. “This would be a lot less complicated if the feds had let NYPD keep the case.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “It’s my problem too.”

  Donato’s brows rose. Arguing with the man was useless, but I wouldn’t back down on this. He placed his hands on my shoulders. “You will leave this alone. Stay away from it.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you.” I clenched my fists at my sides.

  He squeezed my shoulders. “Yes, you absolutely should have. Stop fretting over things we can’t control.”

  I couldn’t stop worrying, but I knew I wouldn’t dissuade him, so I let it go. I unballed my fists and released a long breath. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

  He nodded, disappointed I wouldn’t relent to his demand I stay away from the most pressing fire we had burning. Disappointed I wouldn’t stay for dinner. He’d be pissed when I took matters into my own hands, but that’s where this was headed. And as much as I didn’t like it, I’d already accepted the reality of the past finally catching up.

  A PIT FORMED in my stomach as I rolled into the garage at the apartment. I had no idea what to expect. Each day, the pile of Vivian’s belongings in the foyer remained in place, barely touched.

  My heart pumped a little faster as I rode the elevator to the top floor. Will she be here? I’d wondered on more than one occasion if she would really leave.

  When the elevator doors slid open to our private lobby, I stepped out and stopped, craning my neck. What is that? It sounded as if someone were having a party. There was music at a high volume coming muffled through the walls.

  Madonna blasted me in the face when I opened the door, and I had my answer. Vivian had physically left, but she was still very much here, along with the mountain of her things. It stung like a mother‐ fucker that she didn’t want them, but deep down, I knew keeping them was too painful for her.

  I stormed to the study, found the source of the music, and punched the off button on the stereo. The silence was far worse. I felt lost—a feeling I hadn’t had in a very, very long time. Vivian should be here. I rounded my desk and sank into my chair, feeling another blow when my eyes landed on the picture that had been there for nearly eight years.

  I picked up the frame, caressing her happy face, remembering that day like it was yesterday. Looking at myself in the picture, it was clear I’d been in love with her then, though I’d have never admitted it to anyone. I pulled out my phone, tempted to call her, but we both had to quit cold turkey. So I settled for second best and tracked her cell to that sushi place Muriella had been wanting to try. Now’s as good a time as any. I confirmed that Muriella was there too, and then I threw myself into action.

  “Giselle,” I said tersely when she answered the phone. “Daniel. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  “When can you be ready?” I asked, skipping the pleasantries. “Now,” she replied hesitantly.

  “Meet me in twenty minutes. I’ll text the address to you.”

  I hung up before she could protest and scrolled through my playlist, selecting “Trouble” by Cage The Elephant. I blasted it through the speakers in the apartment. I had to get Madonna out of my head before I went through with this. Once I did it, there would be no turning back.

  Chapter 11

  VIVIAN

  * * *

  Present

  * * *

  I WAS on my third sake bomb by the time our first rolls of sushi appeared. The alcohol was already going to my head, but that was the idea. Home was gone. Daniel had thrown us away. I never thought he’d make it an entire week without changing his mind. This was the longest we’d ever spent apart, and the hole inside me got bigger with every passing second.

  I’d thought our souls were tied together, fused as one, and that he’d struggle the way I had been; that he’d have to come home because he couldn’t stay away. The more time that separated us, though, the more I began to wonder if our love had been one-sided. Oh hell.

  “Here.” I shoved a shot of sake toward Muriella as I downed mine. She eyed it warily, but took it down in one fluid gulp. “I haven’t heard from Stone lately. Have you?” I asked her, desperately needing a distraction.

  She scowled and reached for another drink, slamming it back. “No.” She pointed at me. “And don’t start.”

  “Don’t start what?” I asked, feigning innocence. I knew exactly what I was bringing up.

  “Apparently, he’s too busy for us,” she snapped.

  I shoved a piece of sushi into my mouth to keep from smiling. “Let’s just call him now,” I said as I reached for my phone.

  “No,” she responded emphatically, grabbing my arm.

  I rarely pushed when it came to Stone Jacobs. And maybe it was a mistake now, but what was happening with Daniel only pressed the issue that I wanted my friend to have happiness. I tried another approach.

  “Have you seen this?” I fished the latest issue of Rolling Stone out of my bag and tossed it on the table.

  Muriella’s cheeks reddened. She shrugged noncommittally. She’d seen it all right. “Ruby might have sent me an early copy.”

  I slapped her in the arm. “When?”

  “Couple of days ago.” Muriella shoved back-to-back pieces of California roll into her mouth to avoid an interrogation.

  “How often do you talk to his grandmama?”

  “Pretty regularly. You know we only communicate by mail.” She stirred wasabi into her dish of soy sauce with way too much interest.

  I held up the magazine and let out a low whistle. “He just looks better with age.”

  Stone was a cowboy first and foremost. He’d stumbled into acting, and it turned out he was pretty good at it. Like two Academy Awards good. This certainly wasn’t his first magazine cover. Last week he was the Sexiest Man Alive—again—on one of them.

  Since Daniel had met him at a business function six years ago, the four of us had become fast friends, though over the years his career had kept him busy, so we didn’t see him as often as I would’ve liked. I had a feeling Muriella wasn’t too happy about that either. Nothing had ever happened between the two of them, and she’d take the Lord’s name in vain before she admitted she had feelings for him beyond friendship.

  She snatched the magazine out of my hands. I pretended not to notice her quick look at his gorgeous photo before she leaned over me and shoved it back into my bag.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “M, I’m just—”

  “I know what you’re doing,” she interrupted. “Meddling.”

  I pointed to the center of my chest. “Me? Would I do something like that?”

  “Yes. Now can we enjoy our meal?” She gripped her chopsticks a little too tightly.

  “I thought we were.”

  A growl escaped her, but I knew she wasn’t mad when she snagged a piece of sushi off my plate. I sucked down more sake and let the subject drop. I had something else o
n my mind anyway.

  “Has Daniel ever mentioned that his father’s death might not have been a suicide?” I asked, picking up a piece of shrimp tempura roll with my chopsticks.

  “No,” Muriella said, shock and incredulity in her voice. “What brought that up? Did he say something to you?”

  I told her about finding the autopsy report, and creases formed between her eyebrows.

  “How does trouble always seem to find you?” Beneath her exasperation, I heard concern. Muriella worried her lip between her teeth. “Forget about it. I don’t know what the report means or if it’s legitimate, but it doesn’t matter.”

  She reached for one of my remaining sake bombs and tossed it back, shuddering as the alcohol went down. Her lips pressed together when she looked at me, all the worry, fear, and confusion I felt reflected back at me.

  I sagged back into my seat. “I miss him so much, M.”

  Her hand went to my knee. “I know you do. I’m worried about him.”

  “Me too.”

  We stared at our half-empty plates of sushi for a minute before I picked up my chopsticks again.

  “I like the music they play here,” Muriella said, pointing at the ceiling as Madonna sang to us. Just like that, we were off somber ground.

  “The food isn’t half bad either.” I took a piece of the dragon roll and dunked it in soy sauce-wasabi mixture. “We should have tried this place sooner.”

  “I tried to tell you that. Nobody listens to me,” Muriella lamented, and for about two whole seconds, I felt normal, even halfway smiled. A real one, not the forced kind that I’d been sporting for a week.

  That screeched to an abrupt halt when Billy Vera’s voice came over the speaker, introducing the song “At This Moment.” It was a good one but not what I needed to hear in the fragile state I was in. I signaled the waitress for another drink and waited for Muriella’s disapproving look.