Dark Obsession (Famiglia Book 4)
Page 13
Mason steps up to me until he’s crowding me between the wall and his body, his finger tips my chin up so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
I shake my head. “I’m really not. Half the time I just sit around and play video games with some of the kids or watch movies with Max. I don’t feel like I’m making much of a difference.”
“Trust me,” he says, leaning down to capture my gaze when I try to look away. “You are. It might not seem like much to you, but to them it is. Especially when they’ve lost their only family.”
There’s something in his words or the way he says them that has me perking up and taking more notice. Then I realize that I don’t think he’s ever talked about his family. He always seems to subtly change the topic and divert attention away from himself when the topic comes up in conversation, and it’s not just with me but everyone.
“Your family?” I ask, my voice sounding small in the entryway of his house.
He gives me a clipped nod and takes a step back, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t have a tragic childhood, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was actually pretty normal, for the most part.” He stops and looks around like he’s just now realizing that we’re still standing by the front door. Taking my hand in his, he leads me to the kitchen where he goes about grabbing us bottles of water from the fridge after dropping his hold around my hand, and I instantly miss the warmth of his palm against mine. “My parents were great,” he says, continuing from where he left off after handing me a bottle. “They weren’t overly strict but weren’t pushovers either, they let me be a kid and make my own mistakes. When I told them I wanted to play hockey, they were supportive even though it would eventually require six am practices and they both worked full time jobs. They were willing to make that sacrifice.”
“What happened?”
Mason uncaps the top of his water bottle and gulps down half the clear liquid before answering. “They were killed instantly in a car accident a few months before my sixteenth birthday.”
I try to cover my mouth before a gasp escapes but I’m not fast enough. The sound is deafening in the otherwise quiet kitchen. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
A sad smile crosses his face for a split second but then it’s gone and he’s finishing the rest of the water in his bottle. “I didn’t have any family after that, so the province placed me in a group home. Trust me when I tell you that even just taking the time to play a video game with those kids means a lot to them.”
We delve into silence while Mason goes about gathering various ingredients for sandwiches.
“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”
“On debit,” I tell the cashier while holding up the plastic card. I hold it against the card reader until I hear the little beep for the tap to pay feature and then slide it back into its slot in my wallet and put the wallet back in my purse along with the little plastic bag the cashier hands over with my receipt.
The mid-afternoon sun is blinding as I push open the door to the drug store and step out onto the sidewalk.
“Sofia De Luca?”
I turn to see a man leaning against the back door of a sleek town car, his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. The sun behind him, blurring out his features and making it impossible for me to see his face.
“Yes?”
He uncrosses his ankles and takes a step toward me and out of the sun. His face becoming clearer the closer he gets. That still doesn’t help me place him, though, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met this man in my life.
“I have a proposition for you,” he says, lifting a hand from his pocket to remove his sunglasses.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He chuckles, stroking the beginnings of a beard with this fingers. “Not officially. Take a ride with me. My driver will drop you off wherever you need to be,” he says, tipping his head toward the waiting car.
Clutching my purse closer, I take a step back. I don’t know what it is but something about this guy has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.” I’ve barely taken a step down the sidewalk when his next words stop me cold.
“If you want to keep your cousin out of prison and that boyfriend of yours alive, you’ll get in the car.”
“W-what did you just say?”
He grins and it’s pure predatory. “You heard me. I’ll leave the choice up to you but when I get back into my car, the offer leaves with me.”
I scoff, folding my arms over my chest and looking around for someone to jump out and yell that I’ve been punk’d. This guy has to be kidding, right? There’s no way he knows my family or has the kind of power to send Braxton to prison and Mason…
But what if he’s not joking. What if he really does have that kind of pull. Would I be able to forgive myself if I walked away right now, like I should, and then something were to happen to either of them. I could pull out my cell right now and call Mason. Find out if he’s okay and if he’s heard from Braxton yet today. Even though I know the answer to that question will be no. Braxton and Klara aren’t supposed to get into contact with anyone here in North America unless it’s an emergency.
“You have fifteen seconds. You wouldn’t want your son to grow up without a mother and father now, do you?” the stranger says, walking back towards his car and opening the back door.
Oh hell no! I briefly wonder what Klara or Jessika would do and then decide to say fuck it. If there was a chance that this man could harm their men and their children, they would go with him if only to carve him up as a warning to anyone else. Well, Jessika would. Klara’s still a little squeamish when it comes to blood. With a deep breath, I follow him and climb into the back of the town car. Hoping I didn’t just make the worst mistake of my life.
“I didn’t even get your name,” I say, once the car pulls away from the curb.
“Salvatore,” he answers, lifting a glass of gold liquid to his lips. I don’t even remember seeing him reach for it to fill up the glass. “My friends call me Simon.”
“So, what’s this proposal you mentioned?” I ask, brushing off the feeling like I should know that name, which is crazy because how many Simon’s can there possibly be in Toronto.
It isn’t until Simon’s driver drops me off at home that the familiarity of his name hits me like a bucket of ice water. Fuck, no.
Chapter Nineteen
SOFIA
My phone lights up for the third time. Mason’s name on the display and I watch it ring out, taking another drink of my wine. I was so hung up on Mason breaking my heart that I never stopped to think that it would be me breaking his.
My phone rings again and my heart sinks as I reach over to silence it and then turn the ringer off, placing it face down on the table while I push to my feet and go in search of the pint of ice cream I know is hidden at the back of the freezer. This week can fuck right off.
“What’s up with you?” Deb asks, eyeing me from the sun lounger where she has her foot propped up on it and painting her toe nails a god awful sunflower yellow. I don’t tell her that, of course, but why in the world would someone want to paint their toenails yellow?
“Nothing,” I answer automatically, shimmying down to get comfortable on my own lounger.
Ever since Braxton and Klara had to flee the country on a moment’s notice, I’ve had the house to myself and while I miss them fiercely and hope they’ll be able to come home soon, it’s been kind of nice. Quiet.
It’s been lonely, my brain tries to remind me, but I shut it out.
It’s been a week since the last time I saw Mason. He’s called and texted me every day, but I’ve ignored them all. It kills me to not respond to him. I have no idea what I would say, though. I’m doing this to save your life. I’m doing this to bring my cousin and his wife home? I don’t think either of those will go over very well with him, especially when we agreed to never lie to each other.
You could always tell him. The Famiglia has dealt with worse situations.
All I know is, I have to figure something out fast because sooner or later Mason’s going to show up here, demanding answers about why I’ve been ignoring him, and I don’t think I could lie to his face. At least not very well.
My phone pings from the small table in between the two loungers with a new message.
Mason: I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you can’t ignore me forever, Sof.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and chew on it as I read and reread his message while trying to figure out what to say in return. Simon’s words to me that day begin to play back in my mind. His proposal, his promise to make Mason’s life a living hell if I didn’t agree to his terms. The admission that he’s the one who organized the man hunt against my cousin.
“I can make it all go away, Sofia, if you agree.”
I’m still staring at the open message thread when a new one comes in.
Mason: I’m giving you until tomorrow. I’ll see you at Toni’s tomorrow for the family dinner.
Shit. I forgot about the family dinner at Toni and Kai’s. Normally family dinners are held at Braxton and Klara’s but with them being gone, it was decided that we needed to band together now more than ever before so Toni and Kai decided to host the next dinner. Then, Alessandro and Jessika getting the one after if Braxton and Klara aren’t back by then.
“I’m going to get into the pool,’ Deb says, but I wave her off, my attention still rooted to the cellphone in my palm. Another text comes through.
Mason: Tomorrow, Sofia, and then this distance ends.
I swallow hard past the lump in my throat and the feeling telling me that I shouldn’t be going through with Simon’s plan. I know, I know, nothing good can come from it, but don’t people always lament about the fact that if you love someone, you’ll do anything to keep them safe? I try to tell myself that that’s what I’m doing. I’m simply trying to keep my family safe. That doesn’t mean that I’m not scared shitless, and it definitely doesn’t mean that I can’t feel this insurmountable guilt bearing down on my chest when I think about what this is going to do to Mason. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but that’s exactly what I’m getting ready to do. I just hope that when the dust settles, when he’s safe and when my cousin isn’t being threatened with prison time… he’ll forgive me.
With trembling fingers, I back out of Mason’s text thread and open a new message. My throat burns with every word I type out and every tear I try to hold at bay. Bile rises up the back of my throat when I hit send. A new message pings almost immediately after I’ve sent the message.
Simon: I was beginning to think you weren’t serious about this.
Me: Call the detective off now.
Simon: Not until I know you’re fully committed to this. See you at dinner tomorrow, sweetheart.
I lose the battle with my stomach when his last message comes through. I stumble up off the lounger and haul my body through the screen door, past the kitchen and into the hall bathroom. I’ve barely managed to get the lid of the toilet up and fall to my knees when the contents of my stomach hurdle their way up my throat.
When I think there couldn’t possibly be anymore to throw up, I fall back against the wall and draw my knees up, curling my arms around my shins and resting my head against my knees. At this point I’m not sure if it’s morning sickness or the very idea of promising to marry a man I despise in order to save the man I love. Maybe it’s a little of both.
Chapter Twenty
MASON
Me: I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you can’t ignore me forever, Sof.
Me: I’m giving you until tomorrow. I’ll see you at Toni’s for the family dinner.
Me: Tomorrow, Sofia, and then this distance ends.
As expected, my texts go unanswered. It’s been a week of Sofia ignoring my messages and my calls. A week of me going crazy trying to figure out what the fuck I did that would make her ignore me.
“That must be some interesting text,” Corey says, slipping onto the barstool beside me and motioning to the bartender for another round.
When another minute goes by with no response, I slip the device back into my pocket and slam the shot back that was just placed in front of me, grateful when the bartender immediately refills the glass and leaves the bottle on the bar top.
Pathetic.
When did I become this person who sits around, staring at their phone, waiting for it to ring.
“Sofia’s been ignoring me for the last week,” I say, taking another shot and then refilling both our glasses with the amber liquor.
“Ah, woman trouble. What did you do?”
“Me? I did nothing,” I scoff, throwing back a third shot.
Damn, that went down smooth. This time it’s Corey who refills our shot glasses. The move takes me by surprise since he’s known to not drink much when his wife’s home instead of away on a business trip. Mel hates it when he gets obscenely drunk. Mostly because he turns into an obnoxious asshole. But if he’s taken over pouring our shots then she must be away on another business trip. Ever since her interior design business took off, she’s been going on these business trips more often than not. I always thought Corey was okay with it because it meant he could throw himself into cases that he’d usually not have much time for, but maybe I was wrong.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Women are complicated creatures. It’s safer to just apologize for shit you know you didn’t do to avoid dragging out the unnecessary argument. Plus,” he adds with a rueful grin, shot glass paused halfway to his mouth, “the make-up sex is fucking worth it.”
“You’re a pig, you know that?”
He shrugs. It’s then I notice the tense line of his shoulders, the clench in his jaw, the circles around his eyes. Even in the dim light of the bar, it shouldn’t have taken me this long to see that my best friend and business partner is struggling.
“You okay, man?” I tip my head to indicate a free booth that just opened up in the corner and Corey follows as I head toward it.
We slide in on either side, and it’s another several minutes before he starts talking.
“Mel got a job offer in New York. Some big interior design company has been head hunting her.” He says it like it’s no big deal, like his wife being offered a job in the States is an everyday occurrence, but I can see it in the slump of his shoulders that it’s been weighing heavily on him.
“I wasn’t even aware interior design companies had headhunters.”
“You and me both. Apparently this one is used by all the Hollywood stars who have houses in NYC.”
“Shit, that’s awesome. Is she thinking of accepting?”
“She already has.”
I sputter and choke on the shot I just took. I’m trying not to cough up a lung whilst staring at my best friend.
“Well,” I wheeze when I can breathe again. “Guess you’ll be looking for firms out there then?” I don’t mean for it come out as more of a question than a statement. If Mel’s moving to New York, then obviously Corey will be too.
He shakes his head. “No, you misunderstand. Mel accepted the offer. Without discussing it with me.”
“What? No fucking way she’d do that.”
Corey slams the bottle back down on the table hard enough for it to teeter back and forth a couple times before finally coming to a stop.
“Yeah, I would’ve thought so too, but I guess I don’t know my wife as well I thought. They want her out there in the next month.”
“What the fuck.”
Corey lifts his shot glass in a toast. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing for days,” he says then slams back
the liquid.
We go shot for shot for a little while longer before pouring ourselves into the back of an Uber to my house. I get Corey set up in the guest room with a bucket in case he wakes up in the middle of the night, and a glass of water and then turn out the lights downstairs before making my way up the stairs to my own room. I take the world’s fastest shower, more so that I don’t wake up in the morning smell like shit warmed over and dress in a pair of loose sweatpants.
Crawling into bed, I dial Sofia’s number again and listen as it rings through until her voicemail picks up. I don’t leave a message, I’ve already left plenty, and hit the red button before turning my phone off and placing it on the wireless charger on my nightstand.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow this avoidance shit ends, and I’ll make her talk to me.
I’ve just started my descent down the stairs after checking on Lily and Cooper and letting them know that dinner’s ready when I hear voices coming from the front door. I jog the rest of the way down when I recognize one of the voices as Sofia’s. I don’t care if she’s in the middle of a conversation with Toni, I plan on taking her hand in mine and leading her somewhere we can talk in private. I’m sick of this distance she’s put between us over the last week and it ends now. But the scene I walk in on when I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to the entrance way is not what I was expecting.
Sofia is here, yes, but there’s a man standing precariously close beside her, their hands clasped together between them. It seems like I’m not the only one who chooses this moment to come greet the newcomer. Everyone is piled into the entryway, staring at the couple still standing in front of the door.
“This is Salvatore, my uh… my fiancé,” Sofia says, avoiding my eyes and wringing her hands in front of her while Salvatore snakes a hand around her waist and tugs her closely into his side.