by Penelope Sky
He finally turned quiet, his jaw loosened in disappointment.
“This is over…” I wouldn’t love him, and I wouldn’t let him love me. I had to move on with my life. I had to find someone better, someone my family could love. It wasn’t Bones, and it would never be Bones. “For good.”
He never severed eye contact with me, watching me with the same intensity as before. His hands relaxed, and he dropped the fists he’d been holding during the duration of the conversation.
Silence passed between, so heavy and painful.
This was the last time I would ever see him.
It hurt so much that I thought my chest would crack inward. “If you’re still going to kill my family—”
“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I promise.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“They’re safe—because of you.” He turned away from me and headed to the door, taking my words seriously. I wouldn’t change my mind about this, and there was nothing he could say to make me rethink this horrid relationship. He unlocked the door and turned back to me. “I want you to do me a favor.”
“Okay…”
“Move in to a better apartment. Because I won’t be outside to keep you safe anymore.”
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
All I could think about was Bones. The way he said those words.
I love you, Vanessa.
He sounded so sincere when he said them, looked me right in the eye as he spoke. He said he would drop the blood war for good, regardless of if I reciprocated his affection or not. The terror that kept me up at night had finally passed; my family was safe.
But that wasn’t enough to get me to stay.
We had no future—plain and simple.
All we had was hot sex and lustful affection.
I had to forget him and move on with my life. I had to meet a man who was better suited for me, someone my father would like and want spend time with. I wanted someone I could bring for the holidays. With Bones, it would only ostracize me from my family. My parents would never turn their backs on me, but it would put a thick wedge between us.
My father would be so angry, angrier than I’d ever seen him. He wouldn’t allow his only daughter to love the son of the man who raped his wife.
Just not possible.
We had worse odds than Romeo and Juliet.
I repeated this to myself over and over again, trying to console myself that I’d made the right decision.
The only decision, really.
But fuck, everything hurt.
My chest hurt. My eyes were puffy. Every breath I took hurt more than the previous one. My hands felt shaky. My skin was ice-cold and clammy. I felt like I’d lost a part of me when I told him to leave and not come back. He put up a fight most of the time, but once he realized I wouldn’t change my mind, he finally left.
And then it was over.
Before I knew it, it was morning. Sun filtered through the window, and it was a nice day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the light would be perfect for my artwork. But I didn’t care about making a new piece.
The painting I made for him, the one of myself on his bed, was still in my bedroom.
He forgot to take it with him.
I wondered if he would be back for it.
I sat up in bed and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to chase away the headache that pounded behind my eyes. I should pop a few painkillers, but I lacked the motivation.
My phone started to ring.
I hoped it was him. I wanted to see his name on the screen. But I also didn’t want it to be him either.
It was my mom.
I didn’t want to talk to her right now, but I also needed to talk to her. There was something about my mother that I always found comforting. She was compassionate and understanding, possessing a soft side she didn’t show to just anyone. She’d always been my mother when I was growing up, but once I became an adult, she became my friend.
My best friend.
I answered. “Hey, Mama…”
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said with enthusiasm. “You’ll never believe it. After the weather cleared up, we got a whole new horde of people at the winery. And we sold all your paintings! All of them. They sold like hot cakes.”
It was a dream come true, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My paintings didn’t seem important anymore, not in comparison to the pain inside my heart. I felt like someone stabbed me. No, I felt like someone shot me, and I was still in a state of shock. “That’s great…”
Mom paused for a moment, digesting my tone. The sound of her moving in the background burst through the phone, like she was stepping into a different room so she could speak to me in private. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing… I just have a headache.”
“Vanessa,” she pressed. “Talk to me. Is it that man you’re seeing?”
How did she know that? She always knew everything. I couldn’t keep my tears back, and they immediately poured out. “Yes…” I cried into the phone, doing my best to keep everything back, but it was pointless. I sobbed to my mother, feeling like a teenager who just got her heart broken.
“Baby…what happened?”
“I broke up with him.”
“Why?”
“He told me he loved me.” I took a deep breath and forced my tears back, that way I could talk without drowning out my own words. “I told him I didn’t feel the same way.”
“But you do love him.”
I didn’t deny it anymore. “I don’t want to love him… He’s not right for me.”
“In what way?”
I could never tell her the truth, regardless of how much I loved her. “I don’t see a future with him. He’s not the kind of man you marry. He’s not… I don’t know. Our relationship started as a fling, and it’s been deep and intense…but that’s all it is. I don’t want to feel this way, I don’t want to miss him, and I know I did the right thing…but it hurts.”
My mom didn’t react to my confession about my physical relationship with him. She knew I was an adult, had been an adult for a long time, and she never told me how to live my life. I never felt judgment from her, and I was certain she never told my father these things. “He’s the first man you’ve ever loved?”
“Yes…” And I suspected he might be the only man I ever loved.
“Are you sure he’s not right for you?”
Without a doubt. “Yes.”
“I know this is a long shot, but could I meet him?”
Even if Bones would never hurt her, I didn’t want her anywhere near him. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Alright.” My mom didn’t push. “If you really know he’s not the right man for you, then you made the right decision. It’ll be hard, but it’ll get easier in time. Just stay busy. Come down here for another visit if you want. But if you’re unsure…maybe you should give it a chance.”
If I told her who he really was, she would freak out—and my mother never freaked out. My father would be on a chopper in less than ten minutes, and my entire family would be moving in to rip his head off. I could never take Bones to a family dinner like everything was casual. My father would consider it treason if I brought his worst enemy into his own home. “I’m sure.”
“Then I’m sorry, sweetheart. Heartache is the worst kind of pain. It takes a long time to heal. But eventually, it will. Just be patient.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
A week went by, and I didn’t hear from him. I tried to stay busy like my mother recommended, so I worked on my artwork, went for long runs, went to the grocery store, and actually tried to cook.
The tracker was still in my ankle, but I didn’t ask him to remove it.
I was afraid it would make a bloody mess.
And a part of me didn’t mind leaving it in there.
I’d ended our relationship, but I guess I wasn’t quite rea
dy to let it go. I’d wondered if he’d found another woman by now, paid a few prostitutes to entertain him every night so he could forget about me quicker.
It made me sick to my stomach.
I should go out and start meeting new guys so my heart would heal faster, but I honestly didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t want to go through the process of getting to know someone, of trying to find a connection strong enough so I would have good sex. It happened sometimes, but after being with a man like Bones, I knew I would never find it again.
Everything would be mediocre in comparison.
A few days later, there was a knock on my door.
My heart leaped into my throat when I thought of Bones. Maybe he decided to stop by. Maybe he wanted to try to persuade me to change my mind.
I wanted to change my mind…but I never could.
I looked through the peephole and saw my mother on the other side.
The last person I expected.
“Mama?” I opened the door and saw her smiling in front of me. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, the weather is nice, so I thought we would go shopping. Your father is in town for work, so I decided I would have you entertain me.”
I suspected this was all just an excuse to see me after my little meltdown over the phone. “That sounds great. Just let me grab my bag.”
We went shopping downtown, picking up jewelry, new sweaters, and new shoes. Father paid for all of it, and then we had lunch. She never asked me about Bones or how I was doing. Instead, it seemed like she was trying to distract me. “Do you have any new paintings for me to bring home?”
“I only have two…”
“Two is better than none. I think we can raise the price a bit. I’m telling you, people loved them. The tourists loved them too because they got to have an original piece from an Italian artist.”
“That’s incredible.”
“You’re very talented, Vanessa. I’ve seen people stare at your paintings for several minutes. You make them feel something.”
“I guess so.”
She opened her wallet and took out the checks she’d collected. “They’re all in your name, so cash them whenever you have time.”
I looked through the pile and realized it was almost twenty thousand euros. “Wow…”
Mom grinned. “I kinda raised the prices when you left…and I’m glad I did. I knew you were worth more.”
I folded them and placed them in my wallet. “Those paintings made me some serious money.”
“They did,” she said in agreement. “Keep it up.”
“I guess I don’t need you guys to pay my rent anymore.”
Mom gave a wave. “Don’t worry about that. You should save it to open that gallery or buy a house, something nice in the countryside. Unless you like living in the city…”
I wanted to move home. Now that Bones was gone, I didn’t want to be here anymore. But my heart was still broken, so I wasn’t ready to leave yet. “I’ll think about it.”
We finished our sandwiches and drinks, and Mom waved down the waiter to bring the check. “Alright…this is going to be a little weird.”
“You want me to pay for lunch?” I asked with a laugh.
“No, of course not. I’d chop off your hand before I let that happen.” She pulled her phone out of her purse and pulled up a picture. “I’ll drop this if you want me to, but I thought I would ask. Your father has a good friend in the restaurant business. Apparently, he has a very handsome son…”
I knew exactly where this was going. My mother was setting me up.
“He went to university to study business, and now he owns a chain of restaurants in Milan. Your father likes him because he did all of that on his own and never took a single euro from his father. He’s successful, humble, and from what I hear…very picky about who he dates. He’s never introduced a woman to his family.”
“He could be gay.”
Mom chuckled. “From what I gather, he’s definitely not gay. Anyway…” She set the phone on the table in front of me. “No pressure. If you don’t like the guy or this is too weird, I’ll drop it and never bring it up again.”
Since we were on the topic, I lifted the phone and looked at the picture. The man had dark hair the way I did, along with brown eyes. He had a chiseled jaw the way I liked, and he was fit. He was definitely handsome…a lot more handsome than I expected. I handed the phone back. “How old is he?”
“He’s a few years younger than Conway, so he’s about five years older than you. That might seem like a lot, but most women prefer older men for a reason…a lot more mature and serious.”
I knew my father was older than my mother, the age gap about the same.
“So…?”
“He’s definitely good-looking. But I doubt a man like that is looking to be set up.”
“Well, long story short, his father bought one of your paintings. His son saw it and really liked it…and that’s how it came up. He’s seen your picture and said you were a very beautiful woman.”
“Wow…that must have been awkward for Father,” I said with a laugh.
She shrugged. “He’s not oblivious to your appearance, sweetheart. He knows he has a beautiful daughter. And he also knows you’re at the age where you’re looking for someone to spend your life with. At least he likes this guy.”
“What’s his name?
“Matteo Rossi.”
The only man I wanted to be with was the one person I couldn’t have…and shouldn’t want to have. It was too soon to go on a date, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had to move on, and the sooner I did that, the easier this would be. Knowing Bones, he’d probably already started the progress. “He’s a good guy?” I wanted someone clean, someone who didn’t break the law or kill people.
“Of course. Perfect gentleman. The strong and silent type. And you know he won’t pull any stunts because he wouldn’t cross your father. I don’t think he would even go through with this unless he was genuinely interested in you.”
I’d ended things with Bones because my father would never accept him. I wanted someone my family would embrace, someone they would love like family. Meeting a handsome man my father approved of seemed like the best way to accomplish that. “I’ll give it a shot. Can’t hurt, right?”
Mom smiled. “Nope. Can’t hurt.”
My mother left, and I returned to the solitude of my apartment.
She cheered me up during the day, taking me shopping for cute things I didn’t really need. I handed over my few new paintings for her to sell at the winery. The only one that remained behind was the painting that wasn’t for sale.
It would never be for sale.
Now it hung on my bedroom wall, across from the bed. When the bedside lamp was on, I could see it well enough to study the picture, to remember the night we met with perfect clarity.
I couldn’t believe I was going on a date my parents arranged.
Well, I doubted my father had much to do with it.
My mother was the mastermind behind it all.
But Matteo was handsome and successful. That was hard to find in a man, so I thought I would give it a try. If there was no connection, at least we could be friends. I doubted I would want anything romantic with him right away since Bones was heavy on my mind.
He was always on my mind.
Someone knocked on the door.
It was almost eight in the evening, far too late for someone just to drop by. There was only one person it could be, and if it wasn’t him, then that would be even worse.
I looked through the peephole and lost my breath.
It was him.
Enormous, powerful, and handsome, it was him.
I pressed my forehead against the door and closed my eyes, my heart beating so fast. My hand shook as I held the doorknob. He never knocked, just walked inside like he owned the place. He was respecting my space, which must be difficult for him to do.
He must have heard me on the other side
of the door because he said, “Let me in, or I’ll let myself in.” He was hostile and aggressive. Our distance hadn’t changed his character at all.
I unlocked the door and opened it.
In a black hoodie and dark jeans, he was as handsome as ever. His blue eyes were brighter with emotion, and the lines of his jaw were more pronounced because his teeth were clenched together. He took a deep breath when he looked at me, his chest rising noticeably as the air entered his lungs. He stared at me like he loved me and hated me at the same time.
I could barely stand there and keep my distance. My hands wanted to reach for him, to grab those powerful shoulders and pull him into me. Not only did I want to kiss him, but I also just wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel those thick biceps, feel that soft mouth against mine. I wanted to wrap my ankles around his waist and keep him pressed against me. His presence reverberated inside my apartment, and I could feel it seep into my pores. I could feel my breath become shaky because the chemistry between us was still scorching.
As if nothing had happened, I wanted him all over again. As if I hadn’t already made my beliefs clear, I wanted to take him to bed and ask him never to leave. My emotional response to him was more aggressive than it was before.
I forced myself to stand back, as if the distance would make this heat more bearable. “Yes?”
“I’m here for my painting.”
I knew he would come for it. I’d made it just for him, and I had no use for it. I couldn’t put such a provocative picture on my wall. “It’s in my bedroom… I’ll go get it for you.” I needed an excuse to get away from him, to make sure there was as much distance between us as possible. I turned my back to him, but I could still feel his heat drill through my skin.
I walked into my bedroom, where it was wrapped up and leaning against the wall.
He followed me, his heavy footfalls hitting the floor.
I picked up the painting and turned toward him.
He was staring at the painting on the wall. He looked at it for nearly thirty seconds before he turned back to me. Fierce, his blue eyes were penetrating. He seemed annoyed by the mounted picture rather than touched. He grabbed the painting from my hands and held it with a single hand despite the weight.