The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Saint Anthony answered her prayer.

  He doesn’t answer right away. I strain my ears to listen to the muffled sound of his cough and moments later his raspy voice returns.

  “You’ve got a fire burning inside of you that nothing, and no one, will ever tame. You’re the most resilient girl I’ve ever known and you don’t know defeat, nothing will ever knock you down. You’re a fighter and only you determine when you’re done fighting. You’re the one in charge of that clock, sweetheart, and no one is going to count down the seconds and call you out.”

  I bite my lip, listening as he draws in a deep breath. I close my eyes, envisioning him standing before me and speaking face to face instead of over the phone.

  “Tell me something, Nikki, are you going to let anyone or anything call the shots in your life? Are you a fighter? Are you ready to back down?”

  “No. I am a fighter and I don’t back down for anyone or anything…” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “Because my dad taught me to control my destiny. You taught me how to fight for what I want.”

  “And what do you want most?”

  Right now more than anything I want to hug you.

  “To live out my dreams,” I whisper.

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “Live out my dreams,” I answer.

  “That’s my girl. Don’t you forget that. No matter what, don’t you forget that,” he insists.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  “I love you, Nicole,” he whispers.

  “I love you too, Dad,” I sob. “I’ll see you the day after next.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart,” he says. For the first time in a long time I hear my father’s voice crack, and I know he is crying right along with me.

  “Nicole Pastore?” the nurse calls.

  Not ready to hang up, I feel my heart shatter even more as I lift my head and stare at the nurse.

  “The doctor’s ready to see me,” I say regretfully.

  “Remember who’s in charge,” he says.

  “Me,” I affirm.

  “That’s right.”

  I don’t want to hang up,” I admit.

  “Go, I will see you in a few days,” he soothes. “It’s going to be okay, Nikki. I promise you it will be okay.”

  I nod as if he is standing before me, clutching the phone as though it’s my salvation.

  “I’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he says. “Keep shining,” he adds before ending the call.

  You see what I mean? Your parents are never too far, always stepping in right when you need them. My dad called me to remind me of who I am, instilling all the values he taught me throughout the years. I’m a fighter and I always have the last word when it comes to the course of my life. Then, when I couldn’t bring myself to hang up, he did, knowing I needed that too.

  I’m going to miss that.

  Mikey takes my hands as I pocket my phone and pulls me to my feet.

  “We’ve got this, Princess,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my lips.

  “Yeah we do,” I agree, squeezing his hands before glancing at my mother. “Will you come in with us? We could always use the extra pair of ears in case we miss something or forget to ask an important question.”

  “Of course,” she whispers.

  Three of us physically walk into the doctor’s office but four spirits were present. My father was with me, his words fresh in my mind as I sat down and listened as the doctor read me my results. I knew then that my dad will always be with me. Even after he passes, his voice will always float around in my head, reminding me of all the things I sometimes forget, reassuring me I am Victor Pastore’s daughter and I am a fighter. Like my dad, I don’t know the meaning of defeat.

  Endometriosis.

  I didn’t have cancer.

  And while I probably should’ve been devastated that my case was so severe and that the doctor suggested surgery, I was too relieved that I didn’t have cancer to give my illness much thought.

  My mom closes her eyes and silently thanks Saint Anthony, and I close my eyes and thank my dad.

  Mikey squeezes my hand tightly as he breathes a sigh of relief.

  Today I was going to bask in the glory that I was okay, just like my dad promised.

  Tomorrow I’d worry about the possibility of not having a child.

  I’ll probably cry.

  I’ll probably wish things were different.

  I’ll ask myself why me.

  What did I do to deserve this?

  I’ll worry about what it means for my relationship.

  But then I’ll remember my father’s words, and I’ll fight.

  Because I determine the course of my life.

  My dad taught me well.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nikki rarely woke up before me. Our mornings consist of her hitting the snooze on the alarm six times before I have to drag her cute little ass out of bed. So when I opened my eyes and stared at her empty side of the bed, I knew something was wrong.

  I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and pull on my basketball shorts that were haphazardly hanging off the lampshade beside our bed and went in search of my princess. Her first stop is usually the kitchen. Nikki can’t function without half a pot of coffee in her system, but I walked into an empty kitchen. She hadn’t even turned the coffee pot on yet. I flipped the switch, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I notice the back door slightly ajar.

  I push the blinds aside, spot her lying on one of the lounge chairs smoking a cigarette and make my way onto the porch. She lifts her eyes to mine and quickly crushes her cigarette in the ashtray sitting between her legs. As I walk closer to her and take a seat on the foot of the lounge chair, I see the traces of tears that stain her flawless face.

  I feel like a useless fool every time she cries, but the truth is I have no idea what to do with her tears. I don’t know how to make them stop, hell, half the time I don’t even know why she’s crying. There is so much negativity circling her, pulling her in different directions and instead of making it better for her I wind up with whiplash. As soon as I think I know how to help her feel better, something else comes along and shakes everything up. Mine and Nikki’s relationship is easy, we come and go as we please, answer to no one and live life according to our own standards. There is no drama, no constant flow of issues we have to deal with, it’s been smooth sailing until now.

  I lift her legs and stretch them across my lap before bending my head to place my lips against one of her knees.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Princess?” I question, running my hands along her calves as I stare into her sad eyes.

  “Nothing,” she insists, shaking her head before she forces a smile. “Everything’s peachy.”

  “I might not be the brightest crayon in the box but I know when something isn’t right with you, Nikki,” I reply, holding her gaze. “Don’t shut me out because once we start pretending what affects one of us doesn’t affect the other, that’s when this thing we’re building falls apart,” I pause, reaching out to run my finger along the bridge of her nose. “We’re better than that,” I insist.

  She covers her face with her hands and remains perfectly still for a moment before threading her fingers through her hair and gripping the ends in frustration. I narrow my eyes in confusion as she lifts her head and stares back at me.

  “What do you want, Mikey?” she asks softly.

  “What do you mean?” I question, trying to figure out how this became about me.

  “Do you want kids?” she huffs. “We’re getting married, but we never discussed what happens after we say I do. Did you plan on having children? Did you want to travel the world? What do you want to do for the next sixty years?”

  She’s right, we didn’t discuss the future much, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. When two people are compatible like we are, who needs plans? They always change anyway. You can plan your whole life, every last detai
l, up to the prayer card given to the people who attend your wake, but it only takes one gust of wind to blow your plan to shit.

  Nikki and I don’t need plans, we only need each other. For the first time in my life I’m sure of something and I’m sure I want to marry her. I want to spend the next sixty years riding the tides with her and wherever we wind up is exactly where we’re meant to be.

  “I’ll start,” she offers. “I never pictured myself with a fleet of kids.”

  “A fleet as in more than one?”

  She smiles but her eyes still hold traces of doubt.

  “Do you want a baby, Mikey?”

  I think about the question, cupping the back of my neck as I try to picture me and Nikki with a little squirt of our own. One baby I could probably handle but when you use words like fleet, well, shit, I start to twitch. But if you have one then I think you have to have another, being an only child gets lonely. I didn’t realize it when I was younger but after my father was murdered, I kept thinking if my mom wasn’t here, his death would be my responsibility. I’d be the one to identify his body, plan his funeral and decide what was on the back of his prayer card.

  Everything I had to do alone when my mom died.

  So, if kids were in the cards for me and Nikki there would have to be two of them. But if they weren’t, if she didn’t want to have children, then I’d be fine with that too. As long as I’ve got her I’ll be happy being a part of whatever she desires because she’s ALL I want. Everything else that comes along with her will be the icing on the cake.

  I guess I have my answer.

  “I love Luca and Victoria and when I’m around them, my heart melts but when I’m around other children, I don’t feel any sort of way. I don’t get the warm, fuzzy feelings everyone with baby fever seems to talk about,” she rambles, releasing a breath and blowing the hair out of her face.

  “Baby fever?” I ask, tucking the strands behind her ear.

  She chews on her bottom lip before blurting out her next thought.

  “My biological clock doesn’t tick I’m not even sure it has batteries. The only thing I’m sure I want is you, everything else I’m uncertain of. I’m twenty-three years old, I’m not supposed to have life figured out,” she huffs exasperatedly.

  “So what are you worried about? We’ll figure it out together as it comes.”

  “Mikey, you were there, you heard the doctor when he explained how severe my case was. He specifically warned us that not only would I probably have to have the surgery more than once but having a child would be extremely difficult.”

  He didn’t say impossible.

  “I may not have put much thought into having children but before yesterday I had the choice and now it’s been taken from me,” she whispers, taking my hands into hers and squeezing them. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be taken from you.”

  She’s lost her mind.

  The stress of waiting for the test results, her father dying, throw in her bat-shit crazy relatives visiting, it’s made her lose her ever-loving mind. I pull my hands out of hers and grip her hips tugging her onto my lap before reaching up and cupping her face. Her eyes widen, and I loosen my hold on her cheeks but continue to keep my eyes on her.

  “We’re only ever going to have this conversation once so listen real good, Nikki,” I order. “I asked you to marry me, put a ring on your finger for the whole world to know you’re mine. I didn’t do that without seriously thinking it through. It’s not that I wasn’t sure you were the only girl I’d ever marry, but I wanted to be sure I could be everything you needed in a husband.

  Before you, I never thought about settling down, I didn’t want to be tied to another person. I told myself I was content living alone, but in reality I didn’t want to let myself get close to anyone because every person I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. After my mother died I never planned on sticking around here but I couldn’t walk away from you. We were nothing, barely reacquainted with one another when your smart mouth dared me to stay here, I knew I couldn’t go back to Pennsylvania. It was the best decision of my life and I thank my mother every day for sending me you.”

  “Mikey—” she starts, but I silence her, placing my finger to her lips.

  “Not done saying my peace, Princess,” I say, calmly. “I know life without you, I know the man I am without you by my side and that guy doesn’t hold a candle to the man you make me. I stayed in New York for you, hoping you’d give me a shot to be the guy you spend the rest of your life with. You…you’re my why, always and forever baby—” My words are cut off by her mouth as it crashes over mine. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulls me closer to her, sliding her tongue between my lips.

  I gave in as I always did because giving in meant I won too.

  Winning is being her guy.

  Winning is having her in my life.

  Winning is finding the one person I’m meant to travel through this crazy thing called life with.

  Winning is Nikki becoming my wife.

  Winning is us.

  And if it’s just us in the end, well, that’s winning too.

  Breaking the kiss, I watch as her eyelids flutter open and look into those brown eyes I’m going to stare into for the rest of my life. Those eyes look back at me.

  “Ask me again what I want,” I demand huskily.

  “What do you want, Mikey?”

  “If you decide you want to have a baby then we’ll do whatever we have to do to get you pregnant,” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, teasing her with the possibilities. “If you decide you want to get a dog instead, I’m cool with Beethoven. You want twelve cats, a parrot and goldfish, I’ll turn this house into a zoo. If you want all that and then decide you want the kid, then we’ll move the zoo into the yard and baby proof the house. Whatever you want, I’m game, as long as I get to be your guy. That’s all I want.”

  “Twelve cats?” she queries with a smile.

  “I’d get you a goddamn lion if it made you smile.”

  “You love me,” she declares.

  “More than anything,” I agree.

  “I love you too, Mikey,” she whispers, leaning her forehead against mine. “And every day I thank your mom for sending you to me too.”

  Cradling her in my arms, I turn her around. Lifting her, she wraps her arms around my neck as I stand and carry her toward the house. I press my lips gently to hers.

  Winning.

  Thanks Mom.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  One of the shittiest jobs that came with the title of Victor’s enforcer was sitting on a mark. Sitting in a car, sometimes with a pair of binoculars, waiting for someone to make a move was boring as fuck. Most times, when the order came down the pipe I cursed Vic to the high heavens. I wanted a piece of the action and following a schmuck around the streets of Brooklyn wasn’t my idea of action.

  I’d follow whatever asshole played Victor dirty like a shadow, learn his routine—down to the time he took his final shit of the day. In the early days I’d report my findings to Vic and he’d dismiss me of my duty, sending in the big guns to take care of whatever beef he had. As the years went on, Victor loosened his hold on the leash he had on me and after I gave him my intel he would send me back to take out the garbage.

  It’s been a long fucking time since I sat in my car with a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring at a dark building waiting for signs of life. The last time I was in this position was when Vic gave me the order to check up on Maryann Valente and Mike. The night I followed him after he got the call she was in the hospital and we found out she had passed.

  I thought my days of doing this shit were done but I’m the asshole who took it upon myself to sit here. There was no order, no mobster demanding I sit here with my thumb up my ass. No, this shit was all my fucking idea.

  The people in my life are hurtin’ and I don’t know how to make it better for them. There is no one to blame, no kneecaps to break, no fucking cocksucker to whack. In the Pastore crime famil
y we’re all about an eye for eye. The need to place blame heavy in our black hearts.

  I can’t take Vic’s cancer away, can’t add more time to his existence and I can’t break the son of a bitch out of jail so his final days are with the people who love him, the same people I love.

  But sitting around and waiting for him to die isn’t an option either. I can’t sit back and watch my wife cry trying to prepare herself for her final visit with her father. I woke up this morning and found her sitting at the kitchen table feeding the kids and writing a list of things she wants to say to her dad. She’s worried she’ll forget something and knows there is no second chance, not in death.

  Victor and I have had our ups and downs, our fair share of bad blood and resentment, but the truth of the matter is I’ll always be thankful for the gift he gave me when he gave me his blessing to finally make a life for myself and his daughter.

  The Pastores are just as much a part of my family as my mother and sister. I hold Nikki in the same regard as I hold Lauren. Then there is Grace, they don’t make them like her anymore. That woman doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, been through hell and back and still she smiles.

  Her smile is fading, and it’s a fucking shame to watch.

  I’m sure people will talk, they’ll call me an asshole, say I can’t let go of the life. But this is my life, this is all I know and when I’m at the end of my rope, running out of options it will always be this life that leads the way.

  My connections in the mob may have diminished and my pride keeps me from reaching out to Rocco, but when there’s a will, there is a motherfucking way. Luckily my sister fell in love with a fucking genius. Riggs is a goddamn asset. I wish we had his expertise back in the day, maybe he could’ve gotten my ass released from jail sooner. One click of the mouse and he erases life and creates new. It’s fucking sick, especially for me, I barely know how to operate an iPhone.

  Anyway, with a couple of strokes of the keys Riggs can get the information it would take me weeks to get if I did it the old fashioned way—following someone, collecting their secrets and using it against them. Maybe I snatch the person on the way to work, or there is always a good old fashioned beat down, either way they’re gums get loose and they spill.