He nodded. “Do you remember any more about what happened since that day?”
“Bits and pieces. I mean, those first months are blurry… but after that, yeah. I think I do.”
“Maybe you suppressed that one memory to cope. Maybe not right after the event happened, but at some point. That could explain why you don’t remember everything from before.”
I stared at him, hating how true the words probably were.
Just how much of my life did I know nothing about?
How much of myself did I not know?
“I guess that’s why I didn’t recognize you or Franko.”
He tilted his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Time does that to the best of us. I didn’t immediately recognize you either, for the record, when I saw you in the coffee shop that first time. I just thought you looked familiar.”
“At least you remember most of the details of your life before you were fifteen.”
“Yes,” he slowly said.
“I barely do.”
His jaw clicked.
“You look angry,” I stated simply.
Angelo ran a hand along his jaw. “I am. Just at the fact that you had to go through this.”
“Well there’s nothing to be done about it now.”
He didn’t look at me, instead seeming to be off in his own world.
“I also didn’t remember anything about Dad’s job. I mean, about...”
Angelo looked back at me. “His involvement in the mafia world?”
“I knew he was a tailor, but I didn’t remember he had… dealings.”
“He was kind of my family’s tailor. He did civilian work, but I don’t think he worked for any of the other families.”
“And you don’t know why they might have been killed?”
“No,” he frowned. “I’m sorry.”
I bitterly clicked my tongue. “I’m worthless.”
“Don’t say that,” he fiercely said. “The past isn’t who you are anyway.”
I studied his face and decided he meant what he said. It helped some.
“Anyway,” he went on, “Now that this has happened you might start remembering other things.”
“Maybe.”
Hopefully any other repressed memories were better than the one of that fateful day. Not likely, though. Wasn’t the point of repressing memories that you wouldn’t have to think about unbearable things?
“You should sleep.”
“Can’t. It’s just not possible.”
“All right,” he conceded.
“Has Sophia called back?”
He checked his phone. “No.”
I sighed and dropped my head back against the inclined bed. “TV it is, I guess.”
Angelo got the remote again and clicked through the channels, finally settling on a rerun of some old black and white show from the fifties. I did my best to pay attention, but the reality of everything that had happened was still there.
The memories. The fears. They seemed just as real as ten years ago.
I couldn’t help but think maybe I’d been better off in the dark.
Angelo
“Thank you,” I told the nurse, and returned to the private hospital room.
Paige lay with one arm behind her head, the bed inclined all the way up. She stared at the television screen, but whether she really watched it or not I couldn’t tell.
“I heard the news,” I announced.
She sat forward. “About what?”
“That they’ll release you at six tonight.”
“Yeah. It sucks. I’ll be here all day long.”
“It’s standard protocol. At least says the nurse I just talked to.”
“But I have to work tomorrow. I need to go home and make sure I’m ready.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call Victor and get you the day off.”
“No,” she resolutely replied.
“You’re in the hospital. It’s a viable excuse.”
“I just started this job. I can’t take a day off. And it doesn’t matter that I’m here. I’m not sick anyway. Can you drive me home tonight? Please, Angelo.”
Really. How could I say no?
“I don’t want you to exert yourself.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Okay. Fine. You should probably rest once you get back to the city. We might not get home till close to nine.”
Her lips pursed. “That’s not that late. As long as I’m home tonight.”
I had to admire her determination.
Still, the idea of taking her back to the city left a bad taste in my mouth. Once back, everything would continue on as planned.
Namely, the arranged marriage.
I held my hands steady so they wouldn’t clench into fists. Paige had already been through enough. To be married off to a man she didn’t even know on top of it all was awful.
There had to be something that could be done.
Yet I couldn’t think of anything.
The mere existence of the arranged marriage meant that it was important. It had some reason for being. Moretti hadn’t just seen the Bianchi twins one day long ago, found them to be his type, and decided he wanted one. Usually deals like this existed to help ensure peace between at least two parties.
“I’m worried about you,” I told her.
“I’ll be fine. Really. And I’ll rest once I get home, I promise.”
It wasn’t the asthma attack that had me concerned.
“There seems to be no convincing you, so fine.”
She nodded, the sadness in the gesture not lost.
When six o’clock rolled around Paige booked it from the hospital, barely looking over her shoulder to make sure I followed.
We climbed into my BMW, my feet dragging the entire way.
I didn’t know what came next, but I was fearful it wouldn’t be good. What if I dropped Paige off at her apartment and never saw her again?
Soon she would be married to another man, and I might be (thanks to my family) barred from even contacting her.
My teeth ground together and I hit the gas pedal a little too much, clunking over a speed bump as we left the hospital’s parking lot.
I couldn’t let such a thing happen.
Packing up at the house took close to no time. I waited for Paige in the main living room, giving her some space before our drive back together.
She entered the doorway, the duffel bag swinging from her hand, her eyes steely and dark in a new way. Her gaze floated past me and over to the fireplace’s mantel.
I bolted up from my seat. It had been stupid to wait for her in the living room, so close to the photo that caused her so much pain.
“You ready?” I asked, rushing forward and extending my arm to her.
She walked past me like I hadn’t spoken, her eyes still fixated on the mantel.
“Paige, you don’t have to look at that.”
“No,” she softly said, her back to me. “It’s fine.”
She stopped in front of the photo and peered up at it. I shoved my hands into my pockets and counted the silent seconds as they crept by.
Slowly, she reached a finger up to graze it across the photo. “This man.”
I gingerly made my way across the room to join her. “Which one?”
“This one.” She pointed at the youngest person in the photo. “He was there the day my parents died. He was one of the men.” Her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. “Not one of the ones with guns,” she added in a low voice. “But he was there.”
My stomach flipped. “What? Are you sure?”
She stared me down with such intensity I couldn’t do anything but trust her. “Yes.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “You saw their faces?”
Her eyelashes fluttered and she turned away. Realizing I might be taking things too far with the questioning, I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should just be quiet.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to w
orry about saying the wrong thing. Do you… do you know who that man is?”
“I...”
There was no use lying. Paige didn’t deserve that. “Yes, I do know who he is.”
I half expected her to fly into a rage, to demand I fess up and reveal the man’s identity. Instead she just gazed at me with an unreadable look on her face.
“He’s a friend of the family,” I said.
That part was true.
Well… For the most part.
All in all, it was actually more complicated than that, but I couldn’t find the nerve to go on. Not with Paige looking up with those doe-like eyes.
“They never found out who killed my parents or why. Now I’m guessing it has something to do with their involvement with the mafia...” Her eyes fell to the floor. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
I tried not to sigh too heavily. “I’ll look into it. I’ll ask around, ask my parents.”
Paige’s eyes lifted back up to mine, open and honest. “You really don’t know, do you? Why they were killed?”
“No. I swear I don’t.”
At least I could be completely honest about that.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Are you ready to go?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell, with a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I need to get back. I hate to leave here though. Even with what happened this morning it’s one of the best places I’ve been in a long time.”
“I hate to go too.” I gazed down at her. She lifted her chin up to meet my eyes. “This weekend didn’t go exactly as I planned.”
Paige smirked. “Yeah, well, at least we’re still alive and kicking, right?”
I ran the side of my hand down her arm. She shivered when our skin touched below her sleeve.
“It’s not fair,” she softly said.
I didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. Her parents. Her arranged marriage. None of it was fair.
There didn’t seem to be anything to say. All I wanted was to keep her there with me, hole up for at least a few more days. Maybe even till Moretti came banging down the down to whisk her away.
Was it the dire and crazy circumstances that had me feeling this way? Or was it just Paige herself? Was she really that alien when compared to all the other women I’d been with?
Yes. She was different. Both in ways easily pointed out and in ways not. She was sweet. Gentle. Open hearted. And she was so much more. Sleeping next to her the last two nights had been beyond easy. It just felt right. It scared me a bit. But, then again, so did the thought of losing her.
There was nothing to say that would change anything, so I kissed her. She shifted under my touch, her warmth wafting up and embracing me. Our lips meshed together, the sweetness turning into hot passion.
All of a sudden, she broke away. “We have to get back.”
I nodded but didn’t move. “Yes.”
Licking the lips I’d just tasted, she pulled out her phone and aimed it at the framed photo.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I want to get a picture of this.”
“Are you sure? Doesn’t it upset you?”
“No,” she mused. “I guess that’s weird, but I think it’s because she looks so happy.”
I peered at the small figure that had been Paige’s mother, her grin stretching ear to ear. It was easy to see where the twins got their beauty from.
“I don’t have any photos where she’s smiling like this,” she explained. “I want to keep it so I can remember her this way.”
My throat burned. I barely cracked out an answer. “That’s nice.”
Finished taking the picture, she put the phone away. “I’m ready.”
I followed her out the door, killing most of the lights but making sure to leave the front porch on and set the alarm system.
Maybe I needed to just tell her about what I knew.
No. It won’t do any good.
I needed to wait till I had more information, till I had things figured out. Paige didn’t need any more stress. She needed protection.
And somehow, I quietly nominated myself keep her safe.
Angelo
The BMW glided past the little Italian restaurant. I wistfully watched it disappear in the rear-view mirror, wishing for that day back.
Several times I almost opened my mouth and said something to Paige, almost dropped the bomb.
But I couldn’t do it. Not only could I not hurt her, but the repercussions of revealing what I knew might prove worse than imagined.
I didn’t lie when I said the young man in the photo was a family friend. That he was.
But he was also more than that.
He was Paige’s future husband.
Alfredo ‘The Pistol’ Moretti.
The reasons behind the murder of Paige’s parents had remained secret for years. Though I remembered them from growing up, just like I did the twins, I’d never spent too much time wondering just what had happened to them.
In the world I grew up in, sometimes things just ‘happened’. Asking questions wasn’t always the wisest choice.
“I hope it works out with your new position,” I found myself saying.
The words sounded ridiculous; talk about work pointless with so much else going on.
“Thanks,” came her just as hollow response.
I glanced over at Paige. Her head hung down, her eyes on her lap.
“If I marry this man,” she slowly said. “What kind of life is that?”
I opened my mouth then shut it, pain coursing through me.
“Will I be able to work or make any decisions for myself?” she asked, turning to look out the window at a time when I needed to see her face. “Am I even get to stay in New York, or will I even have a say in anything? This is just crazy. Does anyone have any answers?”
“I don’t know,” I rasped.
She vehemently shook her head. “I’m not doing this.”
She was preaching to the choir.
Paige’s nose wrinkled. “I just have to know. Did my parents make this arrangement? If not, did they know?” She sighed, not waiting for my answer. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m not going to do it.”
“I don’t want you to, if that helps.”
She smiled sadly at me.
We were quiet until we hit Brooklyn. Paige’s phone beeped and she pulled it from her pocket to read a text.
“It’s Sophia. She says she just got a gig.” She read a moment more. “In Stockholm. She’ll be back in a couple weeks.”
“A gig, huh?”
I knew what that meant. This ‘job’ likely had nothing to do with DJ tasks. “You can’t stay by yourself at your apartment.”
“It’s fine.”
“I know you’re an independent young woman...”
She smiled cockily, the first real playful look I’d seen on her all day. “Yeah?”
“Yes, but you just left the hospital...”
And I don’t want you to go. And I’m worried I’ll never see you again. I wanted to add those things, but doing so would be pointless.
And kind of terrifying.
“And you shouldn’t be alone,” I finished. “Something could happen. What if you have another episode?”
“That was the only panic attack I’ve ever had. And I’ve accepted what caused it. It’s done with.”
“But now that you’re remembering things, something else could come up.”
Her lips pursed. She couldn’t deny the argument.
“Stay at my condo.”
“What about Franko and his friends? Aren’t they staying there? Thanks, Angelo, but I don’t really want to share bathroom space with a few college guys.”
“They’re gone. They’ve already left for Baton Rouge. And as far as space, there’s plenty of it there. You can have your own room and bathroom… Or you can share mine if you like.”
I tensed, waiting for her reply. This was the first time I offered to put a woman up in my home, to sha
re my bed with her. The thought filled me with both dread and exhilaration.
Maybe she needed her own room instead. Her own space. That might stop me from getting too used to her being around. Just a couple nights sleeping by her side had done something to me. Any more and I would have a mental breakdown once she was gone.
Paige didn’t say anything.
Attempting to convince her, I reached out and touched her hand. She looked down at where our fingers met.
At the spur of the moment, I turned the car to the right, going down a street full of brownstones. Luckily, an empty parking spot popped up. I pulled into it and set the brake.
Paige looked wildly around. “What are we doing? Why did you stop here?”
I turned in my seat to face her, then placed a hand on her jaw. Her eyelashes automatically fluttered and her breathing went heavy, the exhales washing against my wrist.
“Stay with me,” I whispered. “At least for a few days.”
“Angelo...”
“Why can’t you just say yes?”
“Because… of everything.”
“The arrangement?”
Her eyes lifted to mine. “Yes.”
“That’s the main thing?”
“Yes. Believe me, I… I want to. God, I want to.”
Desire filled my veins. The need to take her right there in that car nearly overpowered me, but I kept it together, keeping my hand on her face and the space between us good and clear.
“You said you weren’t going through with it.”
Her face fell. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“Then what? What’s the problem?”
“What if… I don’t know...” She shook her head, shaking my hand loose. “This is so complicated now. Sophia told me not to mess with you. And now I’m...”
Attached? Was that the next word? The one she couldn’t bring herself to say?
I knew all about getting attached when you hadn’t meant to.
“There are too many reasons for you to stay with me, Paige. First of all, your safety. And secondly, I want you to. I don’t know what will happen next for us, but I know that I can’t let you walk away that easily.”
The Billionaire and The Virgin Page 17