by Nia Farrell
Matteo watched her approach with the steaming cup of coffee. Those dark eyes of his were unreadable.
“Rumor has it, you like it strong,” she said. “Let me know how it is, and I can adjust it next time if I need to.”
He looked at the coffee, but his eyes seemed focused beyond it, on her breasts. He reached for the timer that she’d left and punched it. The shrill, intermittent beeps had Steve and Colin rushing to his side.
“Out,” he told them. “Take ten. Or twenty. Kitchen or living room. She’ll find you when we’re done.”
Done? Beth searched Matteo’s face, wondering what the hell he had in mind.
Reaching, he took the coffee, blew on it, and braved a sip. “Ah,” he sighed. “You did good.”
The door closed behind Steve and Colin, shutting her in with Matteo.
“How are you?” he asked, setting the coffee on the nightstand to cool.
“I’m good,” she said. “Fine. How are you? You look better.”
“I’m tired and fucking sore, but that comes with the territory, Doc says. According to him, I owe you my life. I just wanted to say thank you. And…I’m sorry.”
Beth relaxed a bit with his apology. “That’s okay. I understand. You needed help, and you thought that I could give it. I had my doubts, but it turned out to be true.”
Matteo’s eyes flashed with something indefinable yet undeniably there. “Not that,” he grated. “Later. I just…did I hurt you?”
Beth felt the color flooding her face. “No! No, you didn’t.”
His gaze drifted to her hips. His jaw tightened. The muscles worked. He looked like he was remembering how it felt to be buried inside her.
Beth’s body betrayed her. Her nipples tightened. Her vaginal walls grew slick with her juices, scenting the air between them.
She clearly remembered, too.
There was no hiding her reaction. He blew out softly. “You were so tight, and I’m…”
Bigger than anyone she’d ever been with, but he didn’t need to know that. “It’s okay,” she told him, crossing her arms over her midriff as if she could protect herself from the memories of their heated joining and the conflicting emotions that continued to assail her. “Your fever was spiking. I was scared. I think we both were.”
“That’s no excuse,” he rasped. “I should have stopped.”
“Matteo, it wasn’t rape,” she said softly. “Look, I’m clean. You’re clean. Whatever happened here, we just need to accept it and move on. I’ll go back to work next week, and as soon as you’re able, you’ll find the man who did this to you and avenge your family’s honor. Months from now, this will all seem like a dream. Years from now, I’ll be nothing more than a woman you once met.”
He wanted to argue. He was wise enough not to. Huffing a sigh, he reached for his coffee and drank it while she watched him wrestle with his conscience. Despite her absolution, he still wore the mantle of blame. Hopefully, he would shed it soon. He needed to focus on healing, then on staying safe. Distractions in his line of work were dangerous, potentially fatal. No, it was better this way. Make a clean break and forge ahead.
He drained the last of his cup and set it on the nightstand.
“Would you like some more? I can get it for you.”
He looked at her. His eyes had lost their heat and now seemed as cold as when she’d first seen them. “Yes,” he said flatly. “Have Colin bring it.”
And that was it. She was dismissed. Matteo was on the mend, and they’d agreed to move on. There was no reason for her to stay anymore.
Beth forced a smile of parting and left before she did something stupid, like wish him well or ask him to let her know how he was doing. They weren’t friends. They could never be friends. He was a mobster, for Christ’s sake. A man who carried a gun and hunted monsters. The sooner she put the eldest son of Dom Visconti from her mind, the better.
As soon as lunch was done, she asked to go home.
Mr. Visconti studied her for a moment before nodding his silver-streaked head. “Paolo can take you. Can you be ready to leave in fifteen minutes?”
“Yes.” She could leave in two, if that’s what he had offered.
She was waiting by the back entrance when Paolo joined her. He opened the door and held it for her. His long stride eating up the ground, he reached one of the fleet of blacked-out vehicles and opened the back passenger door for her. In addition to the SUVs, there was one limo—probably Dom Visconti’s—and a panel van that could serve as an ambulance.
“Wait,” Paolo said, pulling a blindfold from his pocket. “You’ll have to wear this. Dom Visconti’s orders.”
“Of course.” She had no idea where they were, and they wanted to keep it that way. Honestly, the less she knew, the safer she’d stay. No one could force answers from her that she didn’t have.
She turned away from Paolo, making it easier for him to tie. He guided her into the back seat, closed the door, and hurried to take his place behind the wheel. The trees had helped shade the vehicles in the morning, but the midday sun was beating down on them now, heating the interior until it felt like a sauna and made her skin bead with sweat.
Paolo started the engine and cranked up the air conditioner first thing, offering blessed relief. Too grateful to complain, she sat in silence while he put the car in gear and headed out, tires crunching on the gravel drive that seemed to go on forever. The tire sound changed when they turned onto a paved road that was oiled, at the very least. It might have been asphalt, but it wasn’t a poured surface. There were no rhythmic thumps from tires driving over seams.
After forty-five minutes of silence, Paolo spoke. “You can take off the blindfold now. We’re nearly there.”
Beth managed to undo his knot and pull away the folded fabric. She blinked her eyes, adjusting them to the light. A quick look out the window confirmed what he’d told her. Another half-mile and she’d be home.
Beth dug her keys from the bottom of her purse and singled out the large brass one. She thought about getting into her car and going for cream cheese, but she needed a shower, stat.
Half a block away, Paolo pulled to the curb and parked on the street, well away from the security cameras trained on the parking lot. “Turn on your phone and hand it to me, please, Miss Shelton.”
Deeming it wiser to cooperate, Beth did as he asked without question.
A few swipes and a series of taps, and he handed it back to her. “Should the need arise, call the number for Nonno—N – O – N – N – O—and Dom Visconti will see that you’re taken care of. Capisci?”
“Yes. Thank you, Paolo.” Unable to resist, Beth opened her contact list and looked at the new entry. She recognized it for what it was—one more tether to keep her tied to the Viscontis. It might look like a lifeline, but it would only tangle around her and drag her down. God willing, she would never need it.
Inside her apartment, her voice mailbox was full, but messages would wait. A long, hot bath was her top priority, then messages, then groceries. She hadn’t lost the mood for Chinese.
An hour later, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel, dried off with a bath sheet, and went to her main phone to check messages. Work. Her sister. Irate work. Her mother. Her sister. Two solicitation calls from organizations hosting fundraisers. Her bestie. Juliette Menard had been her closest friend since kindergarten. She was the person Beth called back first.
“What the fuck?” Juliette might look like a brunette Disney princess, but she had a mouth that could put Gordon Ramsey to shame. It’s a good thing that she worked from home. She had no filter when she was out in public.
Beth smiled. “Well, hello to you, too, boo.”
“Where the hell have you been? You can’t just fucking disappear like that. Bitch, I’ve lost hair over this!”
“You can afford it,” Beth quipped. “Your braid is the size of my wrist. Listen, I’m off work until Monday. The doctor’s blaming red dye #40. If you want to ream me out in person for not getting b
ack to you sooner, I’ll spring for Jade Garden. But I’ll have you know, I called you before my mother or Nan.”
The mention of their favorite Asian restaurant was enough to bring her down a notch. Hearing where she ranked did the rest.
Juliette and she had been a pair since they were five. They had carpooled to college and still took classes that they found of interest, from Aikido and Tai Kwon Do with a sword to ballroom dancing. They’d drooled over pop stars, planned their perfect weddings from bridal magazines and jewelry store displays, and had a list of travel adventures that they intended to check off their bucket lists. Last year, it had been kayaking in Cache River Swamp. They were still working on a weekend in a tree house. A tiny house adventure was an acceptable alternative.
“What time?” Juliette asked.
“Do you want to go early and beat the dinner crowd? I’m free anytime.”
“Sounds good. How about five? That gives me time to finish the piece I’m working on.” She didn’t yet make big bucks writing freelance articles, but she’d won awards for some of her photographs that illustrated them.
“Great! I’ll meet you there at five. Meanwhile, I have to call Nan and Mom.”
And God only knew how long that would take.
“Yeah, well, good luck there. Gotta get back to work. You can fill me in at five.”
“Right. See you soon.”
Her sister Nan was still at the clinic, making it safe to call her home. Beth left a voice mail, dialed her mother, and braced herself for the worst.
If she was lucky, her mother would be lucid. If her five o’clock somewhere came later today, she might just be getting started. She could usually tell by the slur in her speech how much she’d drunk to numb the pain of loss.
“Hello?”
Beth exhaled a sigh of relief. She sounded sober, anyway. “Hi, Mom. It’s Beth. How are you? Are you going to Bingo tonight?”
“I’m good,” she said. “Rick and I are going to that new barbeque place. You know, the one near the outlet mall? We’ll go to Bingo after that.”
Beth bit her lip. She didn’t particularly like Rick, but he had given her mother something to focus on beyond herself. For that alone, she should be grateful. They had just started ballroom dance lessons, and they had made it their mission to try every eatery in a forty-mile radius. They’d been hitting them all. Coffee shops. Pizzerias. Buffets. Bars with grills. Even some fine dining establishments. Rick liked steak and her mother loved seafood. Together, they made surf and turf.
“I won’t keep you then. You’ll probably want to get ready before too long. You won’t want to keep Rick waiting.”
“It never hurts a man to wait, Beth.” Her mother managed to sound coquettish, which was just plain weird. “I worry about you and Nan, dating this day and age. It’s not like when I was young.”
“No, it’s not,” Beth agreed, refusing to say more. She wasn’t about to invite another lecture on the virtues of chastity. “Look, Mom, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to touch bases and see how you were. You sound good.”
“I am good,” she said, “for my age. I’m looking into yoga classes. I don’t bend over like I used to. I think it would help my flexibility.”
“It should,” she agreed. “Yoga has a lot of benefits. I think you’ll be very pleased with the results. Does Oak Grove offer it at their activities center?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell the activities director that you’d like to see yoga added. If enough people are interested, there are teachers who will come in and do classes so that you don’t have to drive.”
“I’ll check. If they don’t have yoga now, then I’ll go to Plan B.”
Just that fast, Beth was back in Matteo’s bedroom, accepting what Giovanni Visconti wanted her to take, for her own good and Matteo’s, he’d said. But she could never tell her mother. She could never tell anyone.
She had to remember that tonight when she was with Juliette.
7
“You dog, you!”
Juliette threw back her second shot of tequila and slammed the glass on the scarred wooden table. They’d managed to get seated in The Taproom Bar and Grill after only half an hour’s wait. Owned by a local microbrewery, The Taproom served a unique selection of bottled beverages and some of the best—and cheapest—food in town.
It was a shame that they were too full from Jade Garden to take advantage of it.
After eating Chinese, Beth had volunteered to be the designated driver to their favorite watering hole.
Her bestie was making the most of it.
Juliette angled her head and narrowed her whiskey-brown eyes. “He was that good, huh? He must have been good, to unlock that chastity belt you’ve been wearing these past two—hell, no—three months. Beth got laid!” Her sing-song voice carried loud enough to make people look. “Beth got laid!”
“Can we not advertise it?” Beth pushed the words past a forced smile and gritted teeth. “I don’t want anyone thinking that all this is theirs for the asking.”
“Hell, no!” Juliette shook a finger, then started staring at it.
“Squirrel!” It was Beth’s turn to point out the obvious. When Juliette drank, she became easily distracted, increasingly so with every round. Her “squirrel syndrome” was more amusing than annoying. Beth was tasked with getting her back on track and keeping her there.
“It’s no big deal,” Beth insisted. “That’s what you’ve always told me when you’ve had one-nighters. Now that it’s done, I can take it off my bucket list.”
“Bucket list!” Juliette brightened. “Are we still doing the tree house?”
“Of course, but not in this heat. Maybe September or early October. I don’t want to wait until the trees turn. Chances are, it will be too cold by then.”
They spent the rest of the night going over everything that they wanted to do. It was an extensive list. Both of them dreamed big. While she doubted that Juliette’s desire to find a kilted Highlander and get married in a Scottish castle would ever see fruition, they were definitely booking a night in a tree house. The sooner, the better. Anything to make new memories and keep her from thinking about Matteo.
Their tree house adventure came the weekend after Labor Day. September 10th dawned bright and clear. By the time they checked into their tree house, the clouds were rolling in and the wind had picked up. In the early afternoon, they had the thrill of riding out a thunderstorm in the canopy. Beth would gladly have gone back to the car, but Juliette was an adrenaline junkie and wasn’t about to leave.
It drizzled rain later, but the temperatures were perfect, with highs in the mid-seventies and a low of sixty on Saturday night. The only thing that really marred their weekend was Beth’s queasy stomach. She wondered if she’d eaten something with a small amount of red dye in it. She had to watch things like chocolate, too.
By Sunday morning, she wanted to die. Juliette was starving for breakfast, and Beth couldn’t begin to look at the food that they’d brought. She felt so awful, Juliette grew concerned. “I’m getting your phone and calling Nan if we can get a fucking signal.”
Depending on where you were, Southern Illinois had good, decent, or no reception.
“Okay,” Beth groaned, hating like hell that she was spoiling their weekend.
Juliette spread the top of Beth’s handbag and rummaged until she found her cell. Turning it on, she had Beth unlock the screen and hand it back to her.
She opened the phone book and started scrolling through names. “Huh,” she said, finding Nan’s number and calling it. “Nan, this is Juliette. Great! How are you? Yeah, well, we’re here. I absolutely love it. You’ve got to come when you get the chance. It’s been great, except your sister can’t keep anything down. With her allergy, I need to know what I can get that’s going to help her, not make her worse.”
Juliette listened. “Okay. Sounds good. I’d pass you over and let you talk but I think she’s about to hurl again.”
Beth buried her head in her puke pot. Juliette finished the call for her. “Right. Later!”
“Separate liquids and solids. Try ginger ale or clear soda first, then crackers later. Jeez. That sounds familiar. And if I can find a store, I need to bring you back some mints to suck on. Those lemon things that you like won’t do.”
“They might have mints at the camp store. It’s small, but they seemed to have a nice selection.”
“It’s Sunday morning. I don’t know what time they open. Are you going to be okay if I make a run?”
Beth managed a weak smile. “I’ll live,” she promised. “And I’ll try to not make a mess.” So far she’d managed to hit the empty popcorn tub that she had repurposed. Dumping it in the small toilet and rinsing it out had helped keep the odors under control, but there was still a lingering sour scent of illness trapped in the small space.
Juliette put on her shoes. When she was ready to go, she put Beth’s cell phone within reach of where she lay. “Call if you need anything. Hopefully me rather than 911.”
The sight of her phone triggered a memory that begged a question. “When you were looking up Nan’s number, you said huh. What was that about?”
Juliette shrugged. “I saw that you’d listed your grandfather. Since yours are gone, I wondered if it was a code name for Rick.”
“What?” Beth was confused.
“Nonno. That’s Italian for grandfather. Nonna means grandmother. I learned those and a few more choice words when I researched the history of Italian Fest. It was started by the Visconti family. Did you know that the first one came here as a POW in World War II and stayed? He went back home to get his wife, though. Now they all do. The men find nice Italian Catholic girls, marry them, and move them to the States. It’s become a family tradition.”
Grandfather. But none of Giovanni’s sons were married. Maybe he had a daughter. God, let him have a daughter.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him, taking that uniquely shaped package from Paolo, pushing the plastic bubble to empty it into his hand. A single white tablet. The right size. The right shape.