by Bethany-Kris
“You got a lot of fucking nerve, huh?”
That seemed to make the man do a double take.
Cella nodded, pointing a finger at him. “I get it—he’s your brother, right? Your oldest brother, so I bet he’s spent his whole life looking after you and the rest of your siblings. I get why you want to protect him, so your only way of doing that here because you can’t possibly understand the complexities between him and me is to strike out at the person you think is hurting him ... but fuck you, Christopher. For believing anything about me that you didn’t have the balls to ask first, for thinking you know what it’s like to live my life, and for assuming you could make any of the choices I need to make. Fuck you.”
“Cella—”
No, she was done here.
Entirely done.
Spinning back around in her five-inch heels, Cella headed for the elevator that was still open from when Chris entered. It spoke to her distraction because a bell rang throughout the penthouse whenever the elevator opened to the place, but she hadn’t even heard it when she was talking to her daughter.
“Cella, wait!”
Footsteps caught up to her before she could reach the elevator. She’d tried her best to keep all those tears at bay while she stormed away. It never helped a woman when she cried ... it only made people feel bad for her, or worse, think she was weak.
Cella didn’t want pity.
And she was anything but weak.
“Just wait,” Chris said.
His hand snagging her wrist before he turned her back around was enough for the floodgates to finally be opened. She didn’t even bother to wipe the tears away as they fell down her cheeks while she faced the man. He sobered at the sight of her tears, swallowing hard and apologizing though she didn’t care to hear it.
“There,” she snapped at him, “take a good fucking look at me. Because this is what I look like when I go to bed, and when I wake up. This is me when my daughter can’t see me. When I don’t have a client to deal with. Whenever I’m alone, this is me now. So fuck you for thinking running away was the easy choice. I know it was wrong, but I did what I had to because I didn’t have another choice.”
Chris opened his mouth to speak.
Cella was faster to say, “And yes, I have called. Apparently, he’s got an assistant now, huh? As far as she knows, I’m just the woman doing this job here ... certainly not important enough to get a direct line to him. Is that the answer you wanted? Let me go, please.”
Chris did, saying, “He had to get a new phone—the old one was ruined in the fire, so he switched to a new number. While he handled everything happening here in Toronto, the assistant I hired to take some of the load off his shoulders was just given the bare minimum information about people who might call through to the old number. That was my fault; she only had to deal with your team up until now, and I never thought to update her to give you the new number. I thought maybe he would have called you from the new one or whatever but I should have known better. He told me this was on you—whatever you wanted, he would let you decide.”
That sounded exactly like Marcus.
“He’s not ignoring your calls, Cella.”
Jesus Christ.
Why did her heart hurt again?
Why wasn’t it easier to breathe?
“He’s waiting for you to call,” Chris said quietly, “and I’m sorry. You were right. Marcus has always been the one looking out for us. That’s his number one job, and he does it pretty well. I guess we’re not nearly as good at doing it for him as he is for us.”
Cella’s bottom lip trembled.
She tried to stop the tears.
They just kept coming.
“I want his new number.”
Chris nodded. “I’ll give it to you.”
“I also just want to talk to him. Face to face, but I have a flight to catch and—”
A whole fucking life in New York waiting for her.
Wasn’t that the story of her goddamn life?
“He’s got a lot going on. His next week is full of interviews with investigators and hours spent with his lawyers. We’re trying to keep everything else around him at a dull roar while he handles the legal shit, you know?”
Yeah, she did.
“I’ll give you the number,” Chris said again, “and you can decide the rest. Whether you want to call, or you want to wait until you can see him. That’s up to you. I’m done assuming like I know what you should do, Cella.”
The lump in her throat was back.
“Thank you.”
“And my daughter really does miss Tiffany,” he murmured, “so if you plan to bring her around some time, Maria would be happy to see her.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
20.
“Since when does Marcus drive us anywhere?” his mother asked from the backseat.
Marcus smiled to himself, knowing neither Cara nor Gian could see it. “Just for tonight, Ma. It’s a special night.”
“Yes, but why?”
“Would it be a proper surprise if I explained all the whys to you?” Gian asked.
Cara sighed dramatically. “This seems like a lot of effort for a little surprise, Gian.”
Oh, was that what his father told his mother?
Marcus shook his head.
She was really going to be shocked.
“We’re almost there,” Gian murmured, “now hush up, and enjoy your night, cara mia.”
While Marcus enjoyed his parents’ conversation in the back of the Mercedes, and he kept his attention on the very busy city street in front of him, he couldn’t help but let his mind and focus wander elsewhere, too. Like to the phone in his pocket, and a voice message he had yet to listen to from Cella if only because he was a coward.
Yes.
Marcus was a fucking coward.
She’d sent him the message about a week or so ago. He missed her call because he had been in the shower, and jumped out too late to grab it. By the time he did get to it, she was already leaving the message. Just seeing her name on the screen of his phone after weeks of no contact had been like a punch to his gut.
Was that it, then?
He had to wonder ...
Was she calling to say goodbye?
Since he was such a goddamn coward, he decided not to listen to the message because right then, he didn’t want to know. After all this time of no contact, he figured there couldn’t be any other reason why she was calling except to tell him this was over between them. So, a day turned into two, and then another and another until it had been a little over a week since she left the message.
He still didn’t have the courage to listen. He was going to turn thirty at the end of the month, in a week, actually, and here he was acting like a teenage boy who was afraid of a breakup. What was that bullshit?
Whatever.
Fuck my whole life.
But tonight was not about his personal problems, so Marcus pushed the thoughts to the side and decided to focus on his father’s surprise for his mother. Peeking in the rearview mirror, he found Gian smiling at Cara while she tried to pry yet more information from him about the evening. Gian wasn’t giving her a damn thing. Not that it mattered because soon his mother would know everything anyway.
They were almost at the penthouse.
Tonight was the big reveal.
As it was, the rest of his brothers and a few close friends of his mother and father were already waiting at the penthouse to celebrate with them when they arrived. A cold-plate lunch had been set up for everyone to enjoy while they walked around and admired the newly designed rooms and all the hard work that had gone into this surprise for Cara.
He knew his mother would love it.
Of course, she would.
For him, though, the penthouse didn’t bring very many good feelings for him. Oh, there were certainly good memories. That was the place which really started it all for him and Cella despite the fact he’d met her years earlier, but that didn’t m
atter.
It was there that he really saw her.
“Almost there,” Marcus murmured from the front seat.
“Almost where?” his mother asked. “This is the way to the old penthouse—did that sell yet?”
Gian simply chuckled. “No, it didn’t.”
“What?”
“I said, it didn’t sell yet, Cara. In fact, I never put it on the market.”
“Why not? I thought that’s what you wanted to do?”
“No, that’s what you seemed to settle on when nothing else satisfied you when it came to the penthouse. I had ... a different idea,” his father said.
Marcus smiled again.
His mother had gone silent.
Soon, Marcus had pulled the Mercedes into the underground parking garage of the building where his parents’ penthouse was located at the very top. Putting the vehicle in park, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the million and one questions that his mother started to ask after her short bout of silence. All it took was a look from his father from the back seat for Marcus to step out of the car.
Everybody needed their privacy, after all.
He also felt like his father was due a moment with his mother before this whole day really began for Cara. While Gian hadn’t been the one working on the penthouse behind the scenes, he did expend great effort to make sure this all happened just the same.
Outside the car, Marcus fiddled with the phone in his hand. He didn’t pay much attention to the other vehicles parked in the garage, or even the passersby on the street just beyond the cement walls. His mind was too distracted; his heart was still fucking empty.
He had no reason to decide that moment was the one when he would finally listen to Cella’s message but for whatever reason, he decided to just do it. Get it over with, and if the message was what he thought it was, then today could be the point where he started over. Not that he wanted to do that, but this had always been about her from the beginning anyway. What she wanted, he would be there to give.
Even if that meant she didn’t want him.
Marcus hit the number one on the screen, holding it until it dialed through to his messaging service. Putting the phone to his ear, he listened as the recording played through its standard message before he hit one again to play the only message on his phone.
“Hey, Marcus, it’s Cella,” she greeted in his ear. “I’m sorry it took me this long to call. At first, I just didn’t have the right number but then I wasn’t sure if what I needed to say would be better said on the phone or face to face. Anyway, if you call me back, we can chat. If you’d rather wait until we can see each other, that’s okay, too. Your father invited me to your mother’s surprise party for the penthouse. It’s just me coming. I wish I had better reasons for why I needed time, but I don’t. I just needed it. I hope you understand. Tiff says hi, by the way. Asks about you all the time. Talk soon, okay? Bye.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear, suddenly feeling like his feet weren’t even on the ground. She’s here. That’s all he could think about—it was the only thing that seemed to make any sense at all to him.
She was there.
Upstairs in the penthouse.
But what for?
To say goodbye?
Or to stay?
Marcus didn’t know if he was ready to find out.
“Son?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he found that his father had stepped out of the car with his mother. Cara had a hand tucked in Gian’s arm, and the two stared at him expectantly.
“We’re heading up there,” Gian said.
Marcus nodded, not at all ready. “Yeah, sure, let’s go.”
• • •
The first thing Marcus should have noticed when the elevator doors opened to the penthouse was the many guests waiting inside to greet and surprise his mother. Or maybe even the way the entry hall had been changed to include walls covered in portraits of his mother’s favorite people. Her husband, children, and grandchildren. He could have taken note of the way his mother lit up at the sight of her guests, and the realization of just why his father hadn’t sold the penthouse like he said he would.
Instead, Marcus looked for her.
Cella.
And he didn’t see her. Not in the crowd of people already starting to move their way, or even behind them where a few friends of his parents lingered to allow their sons, the wives, and grandchildren to come forward first before inserting their presence, too.
Had she changed her mind?
Did the fact he hadn’t called make her think he didn’t want her at all?
Unfortunately, Marcus didn’t have time to focus on the heaviness coming to rest upon his chest because people crowded around him, and while they were his family, he still had a part to play here. A mask to put on so that he could be who he needed to be when he needed to be it.
The oldest Guzzi son.
Always steadfast.
Forever in control.
“And you helped to make this happen, Marcus?”
He turned to his mother, putting his smile firmly in place to nod for her. Reaching out, he hugged his mother with one arm, and drew her into his side so that he could press a kiss to the very top of her head. She smiled up at him, a line of water in her eyes that she couldn’t quite blink away.
“You love this place,” he said, “and Papa knew you didn’t want to give it up. You just didn’t want it to stay the same.”
Cara dragged in a shaky breath. “That’s why Cella—”
Her name had his smile faltering.
His mother didn’t miss it, and she stopped herself from saying more. Her hand came up to pat his cheek, that motherly touch of hers taking away all his worries for a brief second. Of course, it couldn’t last too long, but he appreciated it all the same while he had it.
“Don’t be sad,” Cara told him as though she just knew, “it’s not over until you say so, Marcus.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works. And tonight is about you, Ma, not me.”
“Well ...”
“Come on,” he told his mother, turning her around so that they both faced the rest of the people while he moved them further down the hall, “let’s go see all that Cella had done to the place. There’s one room for the grandkids I think you’re really going to love.”
Speaking of which ...
“Uncle Marcus!”
Little Marcus Gian, although they all called him Marc, Bene and Vanna’s only child—thus far—broke past his mother and father to rush his uncle. All of two years old, the kid was like a hurricane. When Bene asked Marcus to be his godfather, it forced him to fix the bridge he almost burned with his brother and Vanna.
“Playroom?” his godson asked.
Marcus laughed, reaching down to pat Marc on the head as he hugged his uncle’s legs. “That’s where we’re going right now.”
“Come play?”
“Sure will, buddy.”
“You know,” Beni said, staying close to his wife’s side, “if Papa is still thinking about selling this place, I might be—”
“Definitely not selling it,” Gian cut in fast, “so don’t even ask.”
Laughter colored the room.
“So, we’re eating, drinking, and ... what are we celebrating tonight other than this place?” Ginevra asked.
Alessio gave her a shake of his head, while Corrado on the other side of her wrangled their two kids as best he could, one in each arm.
“This family,” Gian said, smiling. “We’re celebrating the legacy of this family tonight, and how much you all have changed it for the better.”
Right.
Marcus had to wonder as he lingered behind to stand at the end of the entry hall while his family went forward to admire the rest of the place with his mother ... what exactly had he given to this legacy so far?
The fact he didn’t have an easy answer bothered him. Far more than he was willing to admit. For a long time, he simply assigned his purpo
se to being there for his family. Taking care of them. Looking out for all of them, whether they thought he needed to or not. He understood all the things he had to show for it, but that didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day ...
Well, at the end of the day, Marcus still went home alone.
A familiar ding ringing throughout the penthouse had him turning around to see who was being let off the elevator into the penthouse. In the few minutes since he arrived with his parents, it certainly had time to go back down and bring someone else up. However, all the guests should have already been at the party.
Marcus froze in place when the elevator doors opened, and there stood Cella looking down at the floor in a black dress that hugged the hourglass shape of her curves perfectly. Gold thread detailing had the dress contoured down the lines of her body. The pencil thin skirt fell a couple of inches above her knees. In her hands, she held tight to a black clutch with a gold chain that was also wrapped around her wrist. The black pumps on her feet did the best fucking things for her legs.
The sight of her wearing a dress with gold detailing reminded him of the first time she’d accompanied him to his parents’ mansion. The gold dress she’d worn that night made her look draped in it. Tonight, the gold on her seemed to show Cella off. She pulled it off either way, and both had him as hard as a fucking rock.
She didn’t know about the Guzzis love of gold, but he did. Everything his family owned had their mark of gold written all over it. Kind of like their signature, really.
Jesus.
She moved forward one step, looking up at the same time. Their eyes met from fifteen feet away, her at the elevator and him at the far end of the hall. For a second, the world stopped moving as her familiar blue met his brown gaze. Under the lighting in the hallway, her tanned skin gleamed. Painted red lips curved into a smile that had him standing a little straighter and taking in another breath of air. Her winged eyeliner and loose waves had him crazy in an instant.
God.
Why was she so beautiful?
Why did it have to hurt?
“Traffic?” he asked.
Kind of stupid.
It was the first thing out of his mouth, though.