by Sam Mariano
“He had kind of strong incentive though, right?” I can’t believe she’s making me defend her asshole brother. “I mean, I don’t like what he did either, but like Maddie said, when you turn rat, you kind of know what’s gonna happen. It’s just not something you do in this life.”
“But Beth wasn’t part of this life. I mean, she was once she was with him, but she didn’t know what she was getting into. She didn’t know loving Mateo would turn into a prison sentence. I could’ve told her that. I did tell her that, but she didn’t listen to me. He’s a very difficult, manipulative, cold person. You can love him and love him and love him, but he never gives it back.” She shrugs, rolling her eyes. “Well, I guess he loved her back for a while. But I could’ve told her what it’s like when he doesn’t. She’s probably lucky she never encountered it. Maybe she’s lucky she died still possessing his love, because his indifference is a whole different kind of hell. When Mateo doesn’t have a use for you, all he does is hurt you.”
“Like he doesn’t have a use for you?” I guess.
Nodding sadly, she says, “Yeah. Since I don’t have a mother or father, it might be nice if the head of the family had a heart.”
Jeeze. “Well, I can’t do much about him, but at least I can assure you that’s part of your past, not your future. You don’t have to feel like that anymore. I know I’m not your family, but it’s the damndest thing, it feels like you are.”
Snorting delicately, she says, “Like I’m one of your sisters?”
“No.” I roll my eyes. “Like you’re my…” I can’t say wife, since I damn sure can’t dangle that kind of thought in front of her. But it’s the only way I can think to explain it. Not in a sappy, cheesy way, just practically speaking. What other woman gets the shelter of your family purely because you care about her? Girlfriends don’t. Given her unique situation, there’s no half-assing my feelings here. It would be cruel. It would make her right that first night in the bar, when she told me I was going to wreck her. And I can’t stomach the thought of ever doing anything like that to Francesca.
She saves me from the thing I can’t say, tipping back her drink then saying, “Okay, next question.”
I think it’s her turn, but I don’t say that. “Okay. Flip side of the first question—if you had to sacrifice one member of your family, who would it be? Mateo?” I guess.
“Hmm.” Her eyes drift up as she thinks it over. Given what she just said, I thought that’s be an easy one. “It’s kind of hard because Dante’s pretty evil, too, and he’s harder than Mateo. Like, Dante encourages Mateo when he’s being awful. He’s like the devil on Mateo’s shoulder, and that’s scary. The absolute worst shit, like the truly evil things, Dante is in his ear pointing out the upside.”
“No angel on his shoulder, huh?”
“Adrian’s as close as there is.”
You’re pretty fucked if the angel on your shoulder is a hardened killer, I guess.
“So, actually, I guess if I had to eliminate one, it would be Dante, not Mateo. With Dante out of the way, Adrian would be the only person Mateo would bounce ideas off of, and Adrian would discourage the truly evil things my brothers get into.”
“It’s so weird the way your family is organized,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“I don’t think it’s too different from yours. I mean, in fairness, I have no idea how the power hierarchy goes outside of the top guys, but Mateo’s the boss, Dante’s the underboss—well, technically our dad is still the boss, I guess, but he’s a figurehead.”
“Right, Mateo runs everything like the boss. Then Dante is essentially my position, but he seems to trust Adrian a lot more.”
“No question,” she says, taking a drink. “Adrian is more loyal. Mateo knows he has to keep an eye on Dante. It’s not unfathomable that he’d betray Mateo to take his seat. It’s what Mateo would do.”
I shake my head. “Ambitious bastards.”
At least this makes her smile. “Yeah, they’re the worst. Joey and Alec are a lot more laidback. I prefer the younger brothers to the older ones.”
“It does seem like the kids got less fucked up as he moved on from one woman to the next. Luciana was crazy. Mateo and Dante are psychopaths. Obviously you’re an angel.”
Grinning, she says, “Clearly. I’m cut from the exact same cloth, though. Their mom was my mom. Alec and Joey have different moms, but somehow I’m grouped together with the absolute worst batch.”
“Are you secretly a psychopath?” I joke.
She sighs heavily, as if caught. “Damn, I thought I had the wool pulled far enough over your eyes. I’m actually the head of the organ harvesting department. You were my mark. I was just about to suggest we head back to the hotel so my shady assistant could help me steal your kidney.”
I put a hand over my heart. “You were going to let me keep one? Aw, see, you’re not so bad.”
Francesca grins, sipping her cocktail. “Okay, I’ve made you ask the last two. I’m going to give you a really good one.”
Rubbing my hands together with exaggerated anticipation, I tell her, “I’m ready.”
“Okay. You’re married. You had to go on a trip without your wife, a business trip to Italy or something.”
I nod. “Okay, sounds legit.”
“On the way home, your plane crashes. Everybody dies—everyone but you and one other person, a woman. Let’s call her Cynthia.”
“Jesus, this got dark fast.”
“So you and Cynthia make it to shore on a desert island. At first you think, hey, someone will come find us. We’ll be saved and we can go home to our respective spouses. Only no one comes. A whole year passes.”
“Is there a calendar? How do I know a year passed?”
Shrugging, she says, “I don’t know, Cynthia keeps track on a cave wall or something.”
“Cynthia seems very organized. Okay, continue.”
“So, after a year on this island together, you and Cynthia have grown close. You’re the only people left in your world, after all.”
“I hate where this is heading,” I inform her.
Grinning, she says with relish, “So, you and Cynthia hook up.”
“Come on, island Salvatore. What the fuck.”
This makes her giggle, and she takes another sip of her drink. It’s worth my hypothetical self being a total douche if it makes her laugh. “Then a week after you have sex with Cynthia, help arrives out of nowhere to rescue you.”
“That must’ve been some hot sex,” I remark.
“Fate is cruel,” she informs me. “Now you come home to your wife and Cynthia goes home to her husband. The question is: do you tell your wife the truth about the brief affair you had in this scenario where you thought there was no chance of ever seeing her again, or do you keep it to yourself and try to move on with your life?”
“Jeeze, you’re killing me at my own game here,” I tell her.
Her eyes dance with amusement as she sips her cocktail. “Which is it, island Salvatore?”
“Well, my answer’s gonna sound like a total cop-out.”
She rolls her eyes. “You can’t say you wouldn’t cheat. I’ll never believe that.”
“But I really wouldn’t. Did I lose both my hands in this accident? Why can’t I just jerk off and not cheat on my wife?”
“It’s not just about sex; it’s more about the emotional connection.”
“I can have emotional connections without fucking. Look at us—you haven’t let me do more than kiss you, and I’m pulling out all the stops. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. Whether I’m a handless motherfucker or not, I just couldn’t do it.”
“Fine, you don’t love your wife,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It was a marriage of convenience. Does that make it easier?”
“Doesn’t matter. If I made the promise, I’m keeping it. Cynthia’s out of luck.”
Francesca sighs. “You and your cheaty answers.”
I shake my head. “Nah, not this one.” Since I under
stand she needs a little more proof of this stance, I decide to share a little of my own family history. “Okay, so… we’ve touched on this before, but I told you my father’s a cheater, right? Cheats all the fucking time. New girlfriend all the time, meanwhile Ma’s been faithful to this asshole all her damn life. That’s not right. It’s not fair. And not so much anymore because she’s hardened to it, which is a damn shame in and of itself, but I remember the first time it happened, when I was a kid. I’ll never forget. One night I was in bed and I couldn’t sleep, thought I heard something in the other room. Thought it might be a monster or something, you know? I was young. So I went to check it out, to save my mom. I told you, I wanted to be a superhero. Anyway, when I went to her bedroom what I saw scared the shit out of me more than if it would’ve been some one-eyed monster eating her intestines.”
“Gross,” Francesca remarks, but her gaze is locked on mine.
“My mom, my strong, wonderful, loving mom… she was in the floor, collapsed. Folded in on herself, just wailing. Like she was so heavy with grief that she couldn’t even keep herself upright. And she sobbed until she couldn’t even breathe, like she was drowning and couldn’t get to a life raft. I thought something was wrong with her, like she was physically hurt, but it wasn’t that. It was my dad. She found out he had some little girlfriend on the side, and it caused her that much pain. I’ve seen people hurt before, but not like that. Not that deep. And I couldn’t wrap my head around it, not as a kid, not at any point since, not now. I don’t know how you could possibly do that to another person. A person who loves you, a person you’re supposed to love… I’ve seen and done a lot of bad shit in my time, but that’s something I’d never do. Desert island or no desert island, if I’m in a relationship, there’s no force in the world that could make me betray the person I’m in it with.”
If I had any faith in Francesca’s sobriety, it would completely evaporate as she sighs, heart in her eyes, and tells me, “You’re so dreamy.”
It takes the intensity out of the moment and I laugh at her. She beams at me and it’s infectious; I have to grin right back. “You think I’m dreamy now, wait ‘til I take you to the malt shop and give you my pin.”
“I wish you could,” she says, a little less jokingly than I’d like.
“What about you? Same desert island but you’re the one who cheated. Do you tell me, or keep it a secret?”
She grins. “You’re my husband in this scenario? That’s not fair. I wasn’t your wife in my scenario. Well, that changes my answer. I couldn’t tell you, because you have a hit list and I’d be too afraid to put him on it.”
“Damn straight I’d kill that motherfucker,” I tell her, not even joking. “Hypothetical bastard.” I let a couple seconds pass, then I go on, “You’d tell, then?”
Nodding, she explains, “I think the secrets and lies would put more distance between us than the sex. I think that’s what would kill our relationship. But this is strictly hypothetical. I wouldn’t cheat either. Especially now, because cheating on you, my hypothetical husband, would make me a hypothetical monster.”
I nod, satisfied. “It’s settled then. We’re never gonna cheat on each other.”
“Okay, one last hypothetical. A less fun one.”
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Less fun than that? Aw, shit.”
“You said you want to get married and have babies, right?”
I’m already cautious. “I said a loose approximation of that, yes.”
“So, what if you had to choose? You meet the perfect person for you, they make you happy, they get you, they make you laugh—it’s pure magic. But if you have that person, you can never have the other stuff. It can only ever be the two of you, you can never have a normal relationship, never take her home to meet your mom, no holidays together, no kids—no normal life. All you can ever have is what’s between you two when you’re alone.”
“This doesn’t sound so hypothetical…”
She holds up a finger to halt me. “Hypothetically there’s another person. A person you really like, a person you really enjoy, someone you could see spending your life with—but you just don’t have that same spark you have with the first person. You’re still happy, it just isn’t magic. But you can have everything with this second person. You can have a normal, stable, pleasant relationship. You can get married and have babies to bring to your family Christmases, to play with Maddie’s kids someday. Your mom and Maddie both love her; they’d be absolutely thrilled if you picked this person—”
I don’t even let her finish. I take her free hand, meeting her gaze. “I’d choose you.”
I can see the vulnerability in her eyes, near to overflowing, but she tries to play it off. “I’m not an option. This is a hypothetical choice between Amber and Bianca.”
“Then I’d choose neither of them. I’d come find you—and hypothetical Francesca better have a damn good reason for cutting me loose with these other random girls, because hypothetical Sal is confused and mad as hell about this situation.”
“Why would you do that?” she asks, rolling her eyes playfully. “Bianca and Amber are both lovely ladies.”
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I adore you.”
Her amusement quickly fades. She swallows hard, pulling her hand from mine and staring into her drink, pensive. “Do you think we might be making the biggest mistake in the world by doing this? I look forward to seeing you and I really do like you, but… I’m starting to wonder if I can survive this. It felt like it was going to kill me last time, and he didn’t even care about me. This… I know you hate when I say it, I know it makes you mad, but Sal… it’s going to break my heart into a million tiny pieces. I’m never gonna be able to put it back together.”
“Francesca, if you haven’t believed a word I’ve said to you since we met, believe these ones: I’m never going to let that happen. Don’t be afraid to give yourself to me. I swear to God, I’ll never make you regret it.”
Our eyes lock and I can see it in hers, that same inexplicable yearning. This is the last thing either of us should want, but I want it bad, and so does she. It takes everything in me not to lean in and taste those plump lips I haven’t stopped dreaming about since I met her. I won’t want to stop if I do. The private little cushioned nook is too tempting, and I don’t want to do anything to scare her off.
This woman is everything I want and everything I can’t have, all rolled into one tempting package.
We also really need to get going, so as much as I hate to, I let go of Francesca’s hand and ease back. I don’t even want the rest of my drink, so I push it back on the table, grabbing my phone and checking it one last time.
“And on that note, we really have to leave or we’re never going to make our flight.”
I go to stand, but Francesca grabs my hand. There’s nervousness in her gaze but not uncertainty as she looks up at me and asks, “What if we miss it?”
“Then we don’t get home tonight,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “So let’s get going.”
“No, I mean…” She stands, a little unsteady. Then she laughs at her drunken clumsiness, holding onto me to right herself. She’s so goddamn beautiful. Not just physically, but just… she’s everything. I don’t even know how to explain the victory I feel looking at her face, seeing joy, and knowing I put it there. Her hand comes up to caress my cheek, her eyes glistening with affection. Now she leans in to give me a soft kiss. Since she initiated, I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her close.
She sighs against my mouth, then pulls back to look into my eyes again. I don’t know what she’s searching for. I don’t know if she finds it. All I know is she nearly stops my heart with her next words.
“What if we didn’t go home tonight? What if we stayed at the hotel together instead?”
Chapter Nine
I tell myself she doesn’t mean it how I’m taking it. She doesn’t want to fuck me; she just doesn’t want to go home.
But then her dar
ing little hand, given courage from all the alcohol coursing through her veins, moves down past my torso and caresses my cock. It didn’t need much encouragement, and that’s more than adequate. It springs to life in her hand and she smiles, caressing my length through the fabric of my pants.
“Fuck,” I murmur, tilting my head back.
For so many reasons. Partially just pleasure, just the sensation of Francesca stroking my cock. I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a big part of it. But also the bad interpretations of fuck—like, we shouldn’t stay the night in New York, because what if her brother notices her missing and I’m wrong about being able to reason with him? As far as I know, I haven’t been spotted here so far by anyone my family knows, but the longer we’re here, the greater the chance I might be. There are a lot of reasons to say no to this.
Only how do I say no to Francesca when she has her hand on my cock?
I can’t, so I do the only thing I can think to do—I reach my hand down to catch hers, to move it. I twine our fingers together so it doesn’t seem as much like a rejection and I smile against her mouth, giving her a soft kiss.
“You’re drunk,” I state.
“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy,” she argues. “And I don’t care.”
“But I do. You can’t be drunk the first time we have sex.”
Shaking her head, she says, “No, you don’t understand. I need to be drunk.”