by Naima Simone
“But I’m going to,” Rion insisted, following Sasha to his desk. “We know how your father kicking you out, and both your parents pretending you didn’t exist for years, hurt you. As fucked up a father as mine was, even he hasn’t disowned me since we left the gang. Killian and I…we’ve watched you try to fill that hole they left with everything from fighting, to gang life, to women. Except for us, everything in your life has been temporary; you won’t let it be more. Sometimes I think eventually you’ll walk away from this—the club, the legitimate life—because you can’t trust it. Won’t believe in it. Won’t let it be there for you.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Sasha snarled, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I promised—”
“Your mother, us. Yeah, I know. But you’re afraid to want it. Afraid to trust it. And if you don’t, then sooner or later, it won’t be enough.”
“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snapped, even as the hated truth seeped into him, into his heart. No. He would never abandon Rion and Killian. Never.
“I’m not saying you would voluntarily walk out on us, Sasha, leave us hanging. You’re too loyal for that,” Rion said, as if prying inside his head and reading his thoughts. “But…” He sighed. “I get that you sent Corrine away to protect Lick and us. But I can’t help thinking it was a convenient excuse. I would hope you’d know that if you had feelings for her, neither of us would stand in the way of that. The chance that you could have what I do with Harper? You’ve got to know I would go through hell so you could have that happiness. So it makes me wonder if it was for us…or you? Did you send her away before she could leave you?”
Sasha didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when he couldn’t breathe. All this time, he’d never rid himself of the itch to return to his old life, to the excitement and adrenaline rush of it.
But…
Did he still covet the streets because he knew they weren’t stable, that he’d never been able to trust them? If he didn’t expect loyalty or security, then it could never disappoint. Not like this new world the three of them had built. It offered stability, not having to look over his back, even moments of happiness and satisfaction. He’d had that once—with his family. And they’d ripped it from him and thrown him out in the cold. Was he afraid to commit to Lick and this new existence because he feared losing it? If he didn’t want it, didn’t place his hopes in it, then when it was gone, he couldn’t be hurt.
Oh Christ.
Corrine. He’d applied the same fucked-up mentality to her. After the previous night, he’d been running scared. Because he wanted her for more than a few clandestine meetings. For more than sex. For more than a few hours. He wanted her—her laughter, her babbling, her innocence, her sensuality, her loyalty…her heart.
He needed her.
He whipped around, blindly stared out the window, his heart damn near trying to punch a hole through his chest.
“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Rion murmured.
He didn’t have to explain. Falling so hard and fast for someone after only days of knowing them was terrifying as fuck. Admitting to himself that he might have lost her because of his own blindness and fears was petrifying.
“I came in here for another reason,” his friend added. “Check out CBS’s website. I think you might be interested in one of the news bites they have on their home page.”
Pivoting, Sasha moved toward his desk and his laptop. He didn’t look up when his office door closed, his fingers already flying over the keyboard. In seconds, he had the local news station’s site up. And several moments later, he dropped into his chair.
Alleged Mobster’s Daughter Visits Her Father.
Corrine’s pale, strained, fucking beautiful face appeared in the video clip. She exited the Suffolk County Jail, and a flood of reporters rushed toward her, microphones and cameras waving. She didn’t offer any comments even though the press bombarded her with questions. CBS’s reporter noted that her father had an upcoming bail hearing scheduled for the next day and then speculated about the reason behind Corrine’s visit.
Sasha replayed the clip two more times, soaking her in. She looked tired but strong. So goddamn strong as she braved the gauntlet of media and camera operators.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, and images of her face from the other night flashed across the backs of his eyelids. Shocked. Hurt. Defeated.
And he’d been the cause.
God, he wanted to fix it. But would she let him?
A better question…should he?
Chapter Nine
“Fucking vultures,” Marco snapped from beside Corrine as their town car slowed in front of Pemberton Square, where the Suffolk County Superior Court sat. Before the vehicle even rolled to a full stop, reporters and cameramen swarmed the car like angry bees. Some even beat on the trunk and tinted back windows.
“Language, Marco,” Anna Salvaggi admonished her youngest son.
Though her voice was cool and calm, Corrine noted the strain around her mother’s eyes and the paleness of the knuckles that clutched her purse. Though beautiful, the drama and media storm surrounding her husband’s arrest had taken its toll. She seemed to have aged about ten years; lines that had not been on her face two weeks ago now creased the corners of the green eyes she’d given her children. More lines bracketed her mouth and cheeks. But true to form, she was as stalwart as she’d been since the morning the FBI had pounded on her door, and the press had camped outside her house.
It’d been another dagger to Corrine’s heart knowing that her mother had been aware of who and what her husband was all along, but had also chosen to keep the truth from her. As if Corrine alone hadn’t been strong enough to handle the truth in the Salvaggi family. But witnessing the toll it was taking on her mom to be without the man she’d spent over twenty years with, and hearing her sobs at night in her bedroom when she believed no one could hear, had washed away most of Corrine’s anger. Now, she just wanted to shield her mother, protect her.
“Yeah, cool it,” Gianni ordered his brother from the other side of their mother. “And for godsakes, don’t say anything to them when we get out of the car. Nothing. Understand?” Though he addressed the question to Marco, he incorporated all of them in his gaze. Corrine met it, gave him an abrupt nod, then returned her attention to the window and the wall of bodies beyond it.
She got it, but she still wasn’t talking to her brothers yet. Not only had they betrayed her trust by using her name to go behind her back and approach Sasha, but they’d tried to threaten him. Oh, she’d dragged the full story from them. And while Gianni, who’d always been the cooler, wiser of her older brothers, realized they’d made a mistake in trying to strong-arm Sasha, Marco was a hothead. And she feared what he would do in defense of his wounded pride. Which was why she’d visited their father in jail. A place she’d sworn she’d never step foot in. But to protect Sasha and the life he’d built because of his love for his mother and friends, she’d seen her father. Made him promise to tell her brothers, and any other family members, to leave Lick and its owners alone. Or face retribution from him.
It was the least she could do for Sasha, considering she’d brought him to her family’s attention.
Hell, even every mental mention of his name was like a laceration across her heart. At some point she should stop hurting and pining after something that hadn’t even been a relationship. Fuck buddies. Sexual partners. That’s all they’d been. That’s all Sasha had ever seen her as, otherwise he couldn’t have discarded her so easily.
If only her heart would get on the We Don’t Fucking Need Him Train, so she could start the process of forgetting him.
Still…if it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t have had the guts to “out” herself on her column. Her editor had practically shit rainbows when she’d told him she wanted to use her real name instead of continuing as C. Dunn. The daughter of an infamous alleged mobster writing for his online paper? It was an editor’s dream. And he’d been right. The hits and com
ments to the site had tripled since her column went live on Tuesday. Some of the comments had been derisive and spiteful, but others had continued on as if talking to C. Dunn. She’d take it. She’d also take the freedom of being her. Of no longer hiding from the public, from her family, from herself.
“I’ll go first,” Gianni said, his hand on the door handle. Their security had already exited the car and stood at the rear door, waiting on them. Security. She smothered a scoff. Sure. She didn’t ask, and frankly didn’t want to know, in what other capacity they worked for her family.
He opened the door and stepped out. Immediately, the barrage of shouted questions and camera clicks and flashes filtered into the car. Her mother exited, then Corrine, with Marco behind them.
A feeling not unlike panic and claustrophobia scratched at the back of her throat as they moved forward through the throng inch by inch. God, she wanted to swing her fists, kick, scream at them to leave her and her family alone—
A firm hand grasped her forearm as a solid arm slid around her back.
Her heart jolted. No. Not possible. No way…
“Keep moving, lisichka,” a low, dark voice with a hint of an accent murmured in her ear. “I have you.”
Sasha. Oh Jesus. The deafening roar of her heartbeat in her ears drowned out the reporters. For a moment, her knees weakened, shock leeching her of strength. But true to his word, he had her. His arm locked around her, steadied her, while still propelling her forward, his big body creating a barrier between her and the avaricious press.
What was he doing here? Why was he here? He’d been adamant about not having him or his business associated with her family. Showing up outside the county courthouse and aligning himself with Carmine Salvaggi’s daughter in full focus of the local and national media was not disassociating himself.
Just as the thought swept through her head, she caught another line of questions from the reporters.
“Sir, who are you, and what’s your relationship with Ms. Salvaggi?”
“Can we have your name? Are you and Corrine involved?”
And then… “Aren’t you Sasha Merchant? Is your club connected to the Salvaggi family?”
Her stomach bottomed out. Damn it. Sasha didn’t answer any of their queries, and since she kept her head down, she couldn’t gauge his reaction. She’d walked away like he wanted; why had he thrown himself into this shitstorm by showing up?
Finally, they reached the courthouse steps, and a barrier of police prohibited the reporters from trailing them up the stairs and inside. After the thunderous din, the relative silence of the building seemed like an assault on her ears. Blinking, she paused inside the doors, inhaling several breaths. But each one brought Sasha’s scent with it, teasing her, reminding her of his shocking presence.
Tilting her head back, she met his blue-gray wolf gaze for the first time since his appearance. And whatever breath she’d managed to gulp in propelled out of her on a gust of pure lust and that emotion she still wasn’t ready to name. Especially given how they’d parted. Labeling that traitorous feeling would only cement her status as Fool Walking.
“Thank you for your help, Mr.…” Her mother extended her hand toward Sasha, an auburn eyebrow raised as she shifted her regard between him and Corrine. Her speculation lingered on the arm he’d yet to remove from around her back.
“Merchant. Sasha Merchant. I’m a friend of your daughter’s,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Salvaggi. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Considering you showed up to support Corrine, I won’t complain about the circumstances,” she objected, smiling.
With a nod at Sasha, her brother led their mother toward the metal detectors, and she and Sasha followed. Minutes later they were escorted to a private room. Before she entered behind her mother and brothers, Sasha’s hand tightened on her arm.
“Can we talk?” He dipped a head toward the door where her family watched them. “Privately,” he added.
After a brief hesitation, she murmured a yes, then continued walking down the corridor until she spotted a corner that offered relative privacy. His big body formed a wall between her and others who might walk by.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted, unable to contain the question or her curiosity any longer. God, if only just looking at him—his beautiful, kind of eerie eyes, his sculpted face, that full, sensual mouth—didn’t hurt so damn much.
“I saw on the news that your father’s bail hearing was set for today, so I came here on the chance you would be, too,” he explained.
And that clarified exactly nothing.
She sighed, leaning against the wall at her back. “Sasha, last time we saw each other, you were telling me how I was a threat to you and your friends’ existence, so forgive me if I don’t understand what my being here has to do with you showing up.”
“I said you were a liability. And I was right. You are.”
A blast of pain scored her. The. Hell. She forced a grim smile to her face. “Lovely. Got it.” She shifted to the side, intent on getting away from him before she gave the press something else to report.
“No. Damn it,” he growled, blocking her way. “Wait. Please. I know I’m fucking this up.”
His thick lashes lowered, hiding his eyes, and his jaw clenched, a tiny muscle jumping along the strong line. Though the business of the courthouse went on around them, in their corner, in the space created by his body and the wall, silence reigned. Thundered.
Finally, he opened his eyes again, and she stifled a gasp. Heat, such heat, flared in his stare, and her first reaction was to go near it, feel its flames on her skin, which had been so cold since Sunday night. But, as she moved forward, she stopped herself. She didn’t trust that fire. The fact was, she’d been scorched by it. And it had hurt. Even now, when she thought about how he’d tossed her aside, she wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.
So, no. Desire, lust, need, whatever, hadn’t kept him from rejecting her. What she glimpsed in his face meant nothing. Nothing.
“Please. I know you don’t owe me anything. But, please, just listen. And afterward, if you want me to walk away from you, leave you alone, I will.” He waited, and reluctantly, she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I told you about coming to America when I was a kid. When we lived in Russia, it was just my parents and myself. Both of their parents were gone, and we didn’t have a large extended family. We were close, because we were all each other had. And after we emigrated, they were still all I had. Those first couple of years were rough. The kids at school hadn’t taken too kindly to the new foreigner who could barely form a sentence in English. My parents, our home, had been my refuge, where I belonged. Where I was accepted and loved.”
His voice trailed off, and he paused for a long, heavy moment.
“After they kicked me out, I was dead to them. Even though most of what I did could be filed under petty things kids did, they cut me off as if I didn’t exist. I never told Killian or Rion, but one afternoon when I was seventeen, I bumped into my father in one of the corner stores. He didn’t look at me; he looked through me. Like I was a rack with potato chips on it. In that moment, something in me died because it truly hit me—I was no longer a man’s son. Until then I’d believed they would get over being angry, that we would be reunited. But that day I had to accept that the foundation I’d always believed would be there for me was gone. Even years later, when my mother came to see me in the hospital, I knew we wouldn’t speak again. She would never go against my father.”
“That was their loss,” Corrine rasped, furious for him even though she’d vowed not to be moved by whatever he said. But that resolve evaporated under her anger on his behalf. “Children rebel or disappoint parents all the time. But parenthood isn’t about loving your kids if they’re good. Or if they obey you. It’s unconditional. They threw you out before giving you a chance to turn yourself around. Most parents would have tried to understand and support their so
n instead of going scorched earth. They failed you, not the other way around. And your father is still missing out on a man he could be proud of if he didn’t have so damn much of that pride,” she hissed.
Sasha blinked. The corner of his mouth twitched before it straightened.
“Thank you, lisichka,” he murmured, brushing the back of his finger over her cheek. The small caress sent sparks from the spot on her face to her breasts, her belly, her sex. She leaned back, away from his touch. That dangerous touch that would have her begging if she wasn’t careful. He caught her action and dropped his hand. “Anyway, maybe that’s why I threw myself into the street life. To fill a part of me that was missing. A part of me I didn’t want to acknowledge was empty. The part that is so scared of not being enough. Of being left again. Of being lost.”
“Sasha,” she breathed. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he breaking a heart she’d sworn he’d never have access to again?
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, almost as if to himself. “You entered my life, and I was blindsided. And terrified—you terrified the hell out of me. You still do. Because I finally want something for my own again. In you I see the possibility of another foundation, another haven. And the thought of hoping for it, reaching for it, only to lose it, had me running and pushing you away before you realized this ex-thief-turned-sex-club owner wasn’t worthy of you.” He lifted a hand to her face again and, after a hesitation, cupped her cheek. Brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “Baby, I showed up here today to beg you to forgive me for rejecting you, for turning away from you out of fear and a warped sense of self-preservation. I hurt you, and though I don’t deserve it, I’m asking you to give me a chance to protect you, stand next to you, fight for you.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she shut them, shaking her head. Hope filled and seared her. Sunday night, even Monday night, she would’ve loved to hear these words from him. But right now, after days of silence, after experiencing the clawing pain of not seeing him, not talking to him, touching him… “I don’t know if I can…” She tightened her arms around herself. “What happens if you decide I’m not worth the risk? I don’t want to feel this again. You fucking hurt me.”