“It’s cool, Danger,” I said. “I know you couldn’t bear the thought of us together. That’s fine. I get it.”
“I could bear… Never mind. And, uh, don’t call me that in there,” he said. “I’m not Danger.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Demetrius, then.”
He nodded.
We looked like head-bobbing fools.
He jammed his hands into his pockets.
I fiddled with the zipper on my jacket.
He gestured with his head. “You, uh, you want to go in?”
I nodded, trying to smile.
He turned and walked over the lawn.
I followed him.
We climbed a set of stone stairs to the front door. He didn’t knock, just opened it and stepped inside.
Immediately, I was hit by a swirl of amazingly delicious scents. Warmth enveloped us both, as did the sounds of laughter and conversation.
“Who just came in?” said a voice from within.
“I don’t know,” said another high-pitched voice, one that was approaching. “I’ll check.” A tiny girl with pigtails skidded out of a doorway on the left. She looked up at us. “It’s Uncle Demmy and a girl,” she bellowed.
Demetrius smiled down at her. “Hey, Giada.”
She grinned. “Hi. Want to see what I can do?”
Demetrius nodded. “Of course.”
She pressed her hands together, folded down both of her middle fingers, and then turned her hands so that one finger was up and one was down. She wiggled them both. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Demetrius laughed. “Very cool.”
She giggled. “You can put your coats in the closet.” She pointed.
Demetrius shrugged out of his and reached out for mine.
I handed it to him.
He hung up both of them inside the closet.
“Who are you?” Giada asked me.
“That’s Kiera,” said Demetrius, shutting the closet.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Just my friend,” said Demetrius, shooting me an apologetic look.
I didn’t mind, though. I grinned at Giada. “I can be your friend too. If you want.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, yes. You want to see my Barbie house?”
“Sure,” I said.
She grabbed my hand, wrapping her small fingers around mine and dragging me up the stairs.
I shrugged at Demetrius, allowing her to take me.
“You okay?” he said.
“Fine,” I said. I was charmed. I liked kids. I didn’t get to interact with them all that much, but they always struck me as straightforward beings who were easier to talk to than adults. I didn’t mind being shown Barbies at all.
Giada’s Barbie “house” was constructed of taped-together shoe boxes. She had obviously made it herself, and done a good job too. She’d made cardboard couches and beds and tables as well. I was impressed.
I must have been up there a long time, because Demetrius eventually came to “rescue” me.
I assured him that I didn’t need rescuing. I’d been having a fine time.
But it turned out that it was almost time for dinner.
Demetrius led me downstairs to the dining room, where several people were milling about with small plates in their hands, nibbling on a spread of appetizers laid out. There were cold cuts, cheeses, olives, roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, and something that looked like a pizza cut into tiny squares.
Demetrius loaded himself up a plate, so I followed suit.
The prosciutto was to die for.
Matteo was there, and I said hi to him. Demetrius introduced me to his brother-in-law, Octavio Bertelli, his sister Julia, and his teenage niece, Alba. His sister Debora was in the kitchen.
“How long have you and Demmy been together?” said Julia.
“We’re not together,” said Demetrius, glaring at her.
“Demmy?” I said. This was the second time I’d heard this nickname.
“Don’t you call him Demmy?” said Julia.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Oh, why not?” said Julia to Demetrius. “That’s your name.”
“It makes me sound five,” he said.
Her jaw dropped. “Don’t you like it?”
He groaned.
“All this time, we’ve been calling you a name you don’t like?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “You’re gonna call me whatever you want.”
“So, if you’re not together, why’d you bring her?” said Julia.
“They work together,” said Matteo.
“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” I said.
“Oh, no family close?” said Octavio.
“Nope,” I said.
“You’re welcome here,” said Octavio. “Did you try the mozzarella?”
“I think so,” I said.
“Good, yeah? You want some more?”
“I don’t know, shouldn’t I save room?” I said.
They all laughed at me.
Demetrius grinned. “Don’t worry, she knows how to eat. She may not look it, but she can pack it away.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
He just grinned at me.
Despite Demetrius telling everyone that I ate too much, I really found myself enjoying being there. My own family gatherings were generally packed with uncles, aunts, and cousins that I barely recognized. I often felt smothered by the crush of people.
I supposed that Demetrius’s extended family would have been huge too, but since they were all in the mob, and he was disowned or something, then he didn’t see them. I wondered if it would be rude to ask him about that. I had to admit that I was curious.
But Demetrius’s family was really nice. Besides Giada, he had a nephew named Faro, who was only a year older than Giada and cute as a button. Both of the little kids were polite and sweet.
The rest of the gathering was boisterous and happy, full of laughter and enjoyment.
After I’d been forced to eat three plates of appetizers, or antipasto, as they called it, Debora brought out an enormous pan of lasagna.
I was surprised. I hadn’t thought that lasagna would be part of the meal, and besides, I distinctly remembered Demetrius saying something about turkey.
In my mind, lasagna was a meal on its own.
Demetrius explained to me it was only the first course. Apparently, there was always a pasta course at any big, formal Italian meal that his family had. It came after the antipasto and before the meat and potatoes.
“So, essentially,” I said, “you have two meals?”
Everyone at the table laughed.
“Hey, I don’t put meat in the lasagna,” said Debora. “That would be too much.”
Too much?
Christ on a cracker, I had never seen so much food in my life. The lasagna was delicious, but once it was taken away, we all stayed around the table for a bit, drinking wine and talking, and then all the typical Thanksgiving food was brought out. Turkey with stuffing. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Cranberry sauce. Green bean casserole. Sweet potatoes.
After that, there was coffee and Julia and Alba disappeared into the kitchen to help clean up, I thought. I decided to have some gender solidarity and go with them, even though I was useless in the kitchen.
But once in there, I realized the counters were covered in pies and pastries.
“Geez,” I said. I had no room for dessert.
“Don’t worry,” said Debora. “We won’t serve the desserts for at least a half hour.”
Right. Because I was going to be hungry in a half hour.
“Can I help with anything?” I said.
“You want to scrape plates into the garbage disposal?” Debora asked.
“Sure.” I took the plates and started scraping.
“So, Demetrius says you’re a receptionist,” said Debora.
“Yeah,” I said.
“You like it?” said Alba.
<
br /> “Sure,” I said.
“How come you’re not dating my brother?” said Julia.
“Julia,” admonished Debora, shaking her head. Then she turned to me. “It’s because he won’t open up to you, isn’t it? You like him, but he’s keeping you at arms’ length.”
It was actually the truth, but I shook my head. “We’re just friends, really.”
“Whatever. He never brought a friend before,” said Alba.
Debora smiled. “That’s true. He never did. And you two are so cute together.” She looked at Julia. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Adorable,” said Julia. “Make cute kids too.”
“Oh, stop,” said Debora. “You’ll scare her.”
“But it’s true,” said Alba.
“We’re really just friends,” I said. “Really.” The thing was, though, we weren’t. We weren’t just anything. Whatever was between Demetrius and me was big and tangled and complicated.
* * *
Demetrius
“The liquor aids in digestion,” I told Kiera, pouring out a shot glass of cognac.
She snorted. “You think that’s really true?”
I held out the glass to her, shrugging. “Could be.” We were back in my hotel room, and I’d invited her up for a drink. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it. I was fairly convinced that it was a bad idea. However, we were both too stuffed from eating all that food to feel remotely like having sex, so I figured it was safe enough. Still, I ran the risk of her thinking that there was something going on with us, when there wasn’t.
She took the glass and made her way over to the couch and sat down on it. “I have to sit. I’m too exhausted from eating so much.”
I laughed. “You didn’t even try everything. And that apple pie was amazing.”
“Shut up,” she said. “I could not eat another bite of anything. The thought of food makes me feel sick.”
“Really?”
“Well, not sick, exactly. But still, I’m not eating anything else.”
I sat down next to her. “You held your own with my family. I’m impressed.”
“I loved it,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me. Your family was so nice, and I had a wonderful time. The food was wonderful. The wine was wonderful. Your niece was adorable.”
I grinned. “Yeah, you fit right in.” Then I inwardly kicked myself. Why had I said that? It was true, but it was another thing that would make her think—
“No, I think they’re just nice people. Anyone would fit in.” She studied her shot glass.
“Well,” I said, holding mine aloft. “Saluti.”
She grinned again. “Oh, I like you speaking Italian.”
I wanted to kiss her. I swallowed. I should kick her out.
She raised her glass. “Cheers.”
I drank.
She drank.
I set my glass down on the coffee table.
She set down hers.
“More?” I said.
She arched an eyebrow. “You trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me? You should know that I’ve eaten far too much food, and even though I am drunk enough to say this out loud, I could not possibly manage having sex. Too… athletic.”
I rubbed my chin.
She cringed. “Oh, God, I really am drunk. I know that you don’t want to have your way with me.”
“No, I do,” I said, pouring more shots. “Of course I do. You know I always want…” I reached out and touched her cheek, my fingers feather soft on her skin. “I’m bad for you, Kiera.”
“What?” She picked up her glass. “What do you mean?”
I withdrew my fingers. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well,” she said, downing the shot. “Too bad, because I think that I already…” She laughed again, but it sounded pained. She got up. “Oh, fuck me, I really am drunk. I put away some wine back there, and now… this…”
I downed my shot as well. “I mean physically hurt.”
“What?” she said. “Do you have a big collection of whips and chains or something? Afraid I can’t handle that?”
“No,” I said. “Wait, are you into whips and chains?”
She giggled.
I laughed.
“Look, I know the first time that we did it, I was a little unprepared for your monstrous dick, but I swear it doesn’t hurt me anymore.”
“Monstrous, huh?” I arched an eyebrow. “I could get used to hearing that.”
She inspected her fingernails. “I know you think I’m vulnerable and maybe I am, but… the only way you hurt me is when you make me go away.”
My jaw worked. I reached for her, and I pulled her down on the couch. “It’s dangerous to be around me.”
“I’m around you all the time, or I was, anyway, before you stopped stalking me.”
“Well, I stopped that because I realized it’s dangerous.”
“Why is it dangerous?”
“My family. My family is dangerous.”
“I met your family.”
“The other members of my family.” I refilled my shot glass and downed it.
“Hey,” she said. “Not sharing your booze anymore?”
“You said you were drunk already,” I said. “I’m not.” I took another shot. I got up off the couch and took the bottle with me. “I only ever really was involved with one other girl.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I said. “And she’s dead.”
Kiera drew back.
“Her name was Mia.” I took a pull on the bottle. “I met her when we were kids in high school. She was my first love. My first everything. I was devoted to her. We used to lie awake at night and name our kids and talk about the future and shit like that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “How did she…? What happened to her?”
“My father killed her.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if it was him personally. He made sure it was done, anyway.” I set the bottle on the counter.
“But why would he do that?”
“She, uh, she wasn’t perfect. I mean, I guess things were going wrong for us anyway, because she was getting into meth, and she might have been dealing it to support her habit, and I guess some cops caught her with product, and they leaned on her, and they said she could stay out of jail if she could give them some information on my family. They were watching her, because of me.” I pointed at myself. “It was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault she was into meth,” said Kiera.
I picked the bottle back up again. I took another swig. “I don’t know if I can talk about this.”
“I can guess the rest,” she said. “Your family found out she was a rat. I know what happens to rats in mafia families.”
“They found out because of me,” I said. “I talked to my dad about it. I guess I must have known what would happen, but… I don’t fucking know, Kiera. It was like my whole life, it was drilled into me. Family first, you know. Betrayal is the worst possible thing you could do. It’s better to shoot someone in the head than betray your family, you know?”
“I know,” she said.
I shook my head. “You don’t know.”
“Not exactly, no,” she said. “I mean, I can’t say that I had the same experience. But I understand what you’re saying.”
“Well,” I said. “Then you get it. Why you should stay away from me.”
“Not really,” she said.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not her. I’m not dealing meth. And you cut all ties with your family. As you should have. And it’s awful that they killed her, and it’s awful that you turned her in, but I know you didn’t want her to die, and it’s not your fault. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe it is. It’s like when you told me that no matter what, I would never be able to save my dad. I thought you were being harsh, but it was true. And after you said
it, I felt… lighter. It was like, you showed me that I was stuck on the past in a way that was keeping me from moving forward—”
“Kiera, when we were watching Nikolai, one of my cousins found me by using my cell phone or some shit—”
“That’s why you wanted me to make your phone untraceable?”
“And it was obvious that you and I had been… you know. And he threatened you. He said he was going to rape you and cut you and make me watch, and I’m never putting you in that situation ever again, which is why you need to stay the fuck away from me.”
She blinked.
I put the bottle to my lips and drank.
“You shouldn’t have taken me to Thanksgiving, then,” she said in a small voice. “Was your psycho cousin watching us then?”
“I don’t know. Look, I got rid of him. Don’t worry about him—”
“Don’t worry about him? You’re worried about him.”
“Not him, exactly, just all of it, okay? I can handle Giovanni, but it’s not worth it to put you in a situation where you could be hurt. So, after this job is over, I’m going to stay away from you. I promise. It’s safer for you that way, and I can’t be responsible for another girl…” I couldn’t say the word “dying.”
“He was looking for you, though,” she said. “Right? Not me?”
“Are you still talking about Giovanni?”
She crossed the room to the door. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re freaked out,” I said. “Now you’re freaked out, when before, you would—”
“Look, before, I was all confused about stuff. I felt like I had to prove myself, had to do whatever I could to complete a job. Somewhere inside, I guess I kept thinking it would make a difference, but you pointed out to me that my dad is gone, and he’s never coming back. So, there’s really no fucking reason for me to do stupid shit, and if some guy is out there trying to mutilate me, then I think you’re right. It’s dumb to be near you.” She opened the door.
“Wait,” I said.
“What?” she said.
I didn’t want her to go. Maybe some part of me had been counting on her to argue with me. But she saw the sense in it now. There was no reason to stop her. I shook my head. “Nothing.”
She gazed at me for a second, and I got the feeling she was going to say something. But then she shook herself, went out the door, and left.
Rough: A Hitman Romance Page 18