“Jesus, Scarlett,” I groan as I feel the wave moving through me already.
“Don’t stop,” she says. “I need this. I need you.”
“You have me,” I tell her. She clutches my arms, her nails digging into my skin in the sexiest fucking way possible.
“Say it again,” she says, her eyes opening to look into mine. I pull her into me and kiss her hard, my tongue tasting every inch of her.
“You have me,” I tell her again. I slide her off the counter and spin her around so that she’s bent over it, her breasts pushing against the cool marble. I spread her legs again and push myself in from behind as she cries out my name.
“Yes,” she pants. “Please. Yes.”
I follow her commands, reaching around to cup her breast, her nipple peaked against my hand. I reach the other hand around to circle her clit, slowly at first with just a little bit of pressure, but it seems to be doing the trick.
“Don’t stop,” she moans, reaching a hand back to clutch onto my hair and squeezing. “Don’t stop.”
I move faster, harder, my hands moving in a circular motion in unison with the rest of my body, hers bucking toward me at every direction.
“Oh… Dominic, I…” And then her body shakes, her legs straighten, and she falls back against the marble. A moment later, I have my own release, and I collapse against her dewy skin as we both catch our breath. She slowly turns around to face me. She reaches her hands up and thrusts them into my hair, pulling me down to her for a soft, slow kiss.
“You’re everything,” she says, and I feel myself falling even more in love with her than I ever thought possible.
A few minutes later, we’re lying in her bed, tangled up in sheets and each other. I kiss the top of her head as I run my fingers through her long locks.
“Scarlett?” I whisper, but no answer. The only sound is her soft, peaceful breathing. I kiss her forehead gently. “I will keep you safe. And when this is all over, I will be whatever you want me to be, as long as I’m yours.”
13
Scarlett - Senior Year
I didn’t think I could care about someone this much.
And I thought if I ever did, that it would terrify me.
But it doesn’t.
All I want to do is talk to him, be with him, touch him, feel him near me. And when I can’t
do those things, I think about them. He’s my motivation for pretty much everything else. I know it’s not entirely healthy, but I’m seventeen. I might look back later and think about how dumb I was to put so much on my time with Dom, but for now, I’m soaking in every second.
It’s a breezy summer morning, and I’m sitting out on the fire escape, reading a book while I anxiously wait for dinner. I check my phone incessantly, but Dom’s been on jobs with his dad all weekend and hasn’t been able to call me. But it’s Sunday, which means dinner at the Castianos’. It means holding hands under the table and stealing kisses on the patio when Avie’s not supervising and prepared to rat us out.
I lean my head back against the brick and close my eyes, letting the breeze blow through my hair and send chills over my skin. The sun is setting now across town, and I think about how much I’ve grown to love Brooklyn. It’s different from being downtown. It’s different than Manhattan. It feels a little more...real. It feels like I was meant to be here all along. I look out across the buildings in my line of sight, and I let out a breath of air, knowing that he’s somewhere in that mix, waiting for tonight just like I am. Brooklyn is our borough. It’s where our story started.
I look down at my phone and send another text.
I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to tell you I can’t wait to see you tonight.
I pride myself on not being clingy, but I’m missing him. I touch the seashell around my neck and sigh again.
Another hour passes, and my phone sits text-less. I scroll back through our messages and call history, and I realize I haven’t heard from him since Friday. And then my heart starts beating a little faster. Because I know what kind of jobs he’s been on, and I know they’re not always the safest. I hear the front door open and slam shut inside the apartment, and I climb back through the window.
“Dad?” I call from my room as I walk out to the living room. He throws his keys on the
counter and kicks the island, thrusting a hand through his hair as he opens the liquor cabinet and pulls out his bottle of whiskey. That’s never a good sign. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, honey,” he gets out after a long swig straight from the bottle. He grits his teeth as he swallows then takes another.
“Are we leaving for Marlon’s soon?” I ask, looking down at my phone. “I haven’t heard from Dominic since Friday. I’m getting a little worried.”
He looks down at the ground then puts the bottle down on the counter. He puts both hands down on either side of it then finally raises his head to me.
“We’re not going,” he says. My eyebrows knit together as he snatches the bottle off the counter and turns away from me, walking over to the couch and plopping down. He slides a hand down his face and takes another hit.
“What do you mean?” I ask, panic setting in. “It’s Sunday.”
“I know what day it is,” he growls, staring blankly ahead.
“Did...did something happen? I’m worried, Dad,” I say, walking toward him. But he doesn’t respond. He just keeps drinking his stupid fucking whiskey and ignoring me. Finally, I plant myself in his direct line of sight so that he has no choice but to look at me. He’s kept me in the dark for my entire life about the type of work he does. But I won’t let him keep Dominic in the dark.
“Dad,” I say again, “did something happen?”
He slams the bottle down on the side table.
“Yes!” he shouts, making me jump. “Something fucking happened. We’re not going to fucking dinner. And I don’t know when you’ll see your little boyfriend again. So just leave it.”
He gets up and walks down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.
My heart feels like an anvil in my chest. I run down the hall to my own room and close the door. I pull my phone back out and dial him. It rings and rings. I hang up and dial again.
Nothing.
I fall onto my bed and cover my face as my heart pounds away in my chest, my mind racing a million miles a minute, wondering what the fuck is going on. How my perfect world could become so unperfect in just a matter of two days.
I roll over to my side and pull my knees up to the fetal position, and I close my eyes. I wake a few hours later to my phone buzzing on my pillow. I jump up and rub my eyes when I see it’s a text from Dom.
We need to talk.
I swallow, but my throat runs dry. That’s never a text you want to get from your boyfriend. Especially when he’s ghosted you for two days.
Okay. When?
Can you meet me now? Andrews Park?
I walk to my bedroom door and poke my head out. The apartment is dark. I slink back into my room and put on a hoodie and my sneakers. I text him back.
Yes. Climbing out now.
Immediately, my phone dings again.
Actually, wait there. I’ll meet you at the bottom. Don’t want you walking there by yourself.
I sigh and clutch my phone to my chest. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I know he still gives a shit about me. I wait for a few minutes until I see his navy hoodie cross the street below and stop at the bottom of the fire escape. I tuck my phone into my pocket and start climbing down. When I get to the last rungs, he reaches his hands up and catches me at my hips, sliding me down to the ground slowly. He smiles faintly when he sees me then nods his head in the direction of the park. We don’t speak for the walk there, which makes the knots in my stomach tie even tighter. Finally, he leads me to a bench at the far corner of the park and sits down. I sit down next to him, careful to leave some space between us in case I’m tempted to slug him.
He lets out a long breath and turns to me.
Oh
, God. This is it.
I brace for impact.
“First of all,” he says, lifting his eyes to mine, “I want to apologize for not talking to you this weekend. I felt fucking awful.”
I nod but still don’t quite understand.
“What happened?”
He runs a hand through those caramel locks of his, and despite how uncertain he’s making me feel right now, I just want to grab a hold of them myself.
“How much do you want to know?” he asks me, and I blink wildly.
I think for a minute.
“I want to know enough so that whatever the fuck is going on right now makes some sort of sense,” I tell him, point blank. He nods slowly.
“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Well, for starters, our fathers are no longer friends, which makes things pretty difficult for us.”
I swallow.
“Why aren’t they friends?”
He lifts those green eyes to me, and I let out a quiet sigh.
“Do you know who Johnny Dexter is?” he asks. I swallow. I’ve heard the name, and all I’ve known is that he’s dangerous.
“I’ve heard his name,” I say. He nods.
“Well, he’s basically the mortal enemy of my dad,” he says. “And it turns out that your dad is, uh, sort of working with him.”
My eyes grow wide, and my stomach flips on itself. I wrap my arms around myself as I turn to face forward.
“How...how do you know this?”
“A few of my dad’s guys caught him out with Johnny at a club this past week. They settled all their business together this afternoon, and my father cut ties with yours.”
My heart thuds against my rib cage, rattling my whole body.
“I...I don’t...why would he…”
Dom just shakes his head and shrugs.
“I don’t know, Scar,” he whispers. “He might be in more trouble, uh, financially, than any of us initially thought. But either way, he can’t work for Dexter and work with my father. It means he can’t be trusted.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Then, I turn to him.
“What does this mean for us?”
He takes in a long, slow breath then turns to me and scoots in closer. He takes my hand in his and lifts his eyes to mine.
“It means...it’s gonna be hard. It means we are going to have to do a lot in secret. It means no more Sunday dinners. No hanging out at each other’s houses.”
I stare at him, fighting back the tears. He takes my other hand.
“It means it’s going to take work, but it’s work I hope you’re willing to do, because I know I am. It’s going to be complicated, but I’ll take it if it means you’re still mine.”
He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine, and my eyes close.
“I’m still yours,” I tell him, and he bends down to kiss me. We sit in silence for a minute. “This is gonna be hard, isn’t it?”
He nods, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into him.
“Yeah,” he says. “But we can do hard.”
We sit together on the bench for another hour or so before I realize what time it is. He walks me back to the apartment and waits for me to get all the way up to my window before he waves goodnight. I watch him walk away until he’s out of sight around the corner, and then I flick my bedroom lamp on.
I scream when I see my dad in the doorway.
“Were you with him?” he asks. I clutch a hand to my chest as I stare at him, and I know I can’t lie.
“Yes.”
He thinks for a moment but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he just walks out of the room to the living room and slouches into his chair. I follow him in and sit on the couch facing him.
“Dad,” I say, “are you...are you working with Johnny Dexter?”
He lifts his big brown eyes to me slowly, folding his hands together and leaning his chin on them. Slowly, he nods his head, and I feel my stomach drop.
I blow out a breath.
“That’s bad for the Castianos, isn’t it?” I ask. He doesn’t say anything. He just nods again. “How bad?”
He rubs his eyes with his fingers then looks at me.
“They hate each other,” he says. “It goes back generations. Marlon has been a wonderful friend, but the money Johnny pays––”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Were you..were you spying on Marlon?”
He leans back in his chair and looks at me.
“Dad, for how long? What did you tell Johnny? Are they...is Dominic...are they in danger? What were you thinking?” I ask, pushing myself up to my feet and pacing around the living room. Slowly, my father stands from his chair so that we’re just feet apart.
“I was thinking that I have a daughter to feed. A private-school tuition to pay. A life to give you. And I’ll do whatever the fuck I need to do to give you that,” he says, looking down at me.
“Dad,” I whisper, my chest heaving up and down, “can you just tell me...is Dominic...is he in danger?”
He draws in another breath and swipes a hand over his face.
“I don’t...I don’t know,” he whispers, turning away from me and walking toward the window. It feels harder to breathe, and my chest constricts.
“What can I do? How do I keep him safe?” I ask. He lets out a sardonic chuckle then spins back around to me.
“I’m more concerned with keeping you safe,” he says. “Having you still connected to that kid isn’t helping. Johnny doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust it.”
I swallow again.
“I talked to your Aunt Janice this evening. She says you can go stay with her for the rest of the summer in Boston. Depending on the temperature of things here, you can finish your senior year up there with your cousin Colleen.”
He looks into my eyes, mine filling with tears.
“It might...it might be the only way to keep you safe. Both of you,” he whispers. My eyes lock on his as a million thoughts race through my head.
We can do hard.
Yeah, we could do hard.
But I can’t do losing him.
I won’t.
I nod slowly.
“I’ll go to Boston,” I tell him, and then I walk into my room and shut the door.
14
Scarlett - Present
For finding out, a week ago, that one of New York’s most infamous gangsters is after my dad and, ipso facto, also me, things have been weirdly calm. I’m basically in a halfway house, except, ya know, I’m sleeping with the guy who runs it, and the food is much better. At least, I imagine so, anyway.
I haven’t gone out of the house without an escort of some sort since I stepped foot through this door a few months ago, but now, it seems my freedom is even more limited. To be honest, though, I don’t mind it so much in here. I’ve always been a homebody, and knowing what’s out there––or not knowing, rather––makes it all the more comfortable for me to stay in here. I’m still exploring all there is about this brownstone––the first place Marlon’s grandfather bought in the city when he moved from Italy. There are bedrooms galore upstairs, but I prefer to spend most of my time on the main level, in the kitchen, at the dining room table, reading in the big sitting room, or out in the small but perfectly manicured backyard.
I’m starting to feel at home here, and it’s freaking me out a little bit.
But things with Dominic get more intense every day, and strangely, that doesn’t freak me out at all. It feels so natural, collapsing into his bed at the end of each day, lying with him, letting him touch every inch of my body, worshipping every inch of his. Some days, I want to kick myself for wasting so much time. Others, I’m just so damn happy we ended up here again.
As I’m sitting on one of the lounge chairs on the patio in my new bikini I had delivered here last week, I sit up when I hear the back door open. A smile hits my lips instantly as I turn around slowly, making sure to stand up as gracefully as possible to give him a good look.
&
nbsp; “Hey, you,” I say, dragging out the “you” when I realize it’s Gio and not Dom. I jump in place and reach for my towel, wrapping it around myself. “Gio, uh, hey.”
“Hey,” he says, reaching back and awkwardly scratching his head, diverting his eyes until he sees that I’m more covered.
“What’s, uh, what’s going on?” I ask. Gio and I don’t spend a whole lot of time together. He and Avie are a lot alike—big tempers, devastatingly loyal to their family, but will be the first to grab you by the collar if it’s needed. I know he’s not thrilled about the idea of taking on the Dexters over me and my father, but he will do anything to protect his family, and that means Dominic, which means me.
“Dom wanted me to let you know that he won’t be home for a few hours,” he says, still struggling to keep eye contact with me.
“Oh, okay. Where is he?” I ask, knowing that’s a loaded question. There are still things about his life that I don’t want to know. There are still things he won’t tell me even if I did. But if it involves me and my dad now, I need to know.
“He has a meeting,” he says, scratching the back of his head again. “Downtown.”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes.
“Is he meeting with my father?” I ask him straight up. He lifts his big brown eyes to me then looks away almost instantly. “Gio,” I say again. “Is he meeting with my father?”
He shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “But he’s meeting with some other guys who might have more information on the issues with Dexter.”
“Why can’t he just talk to my dad about that?” I ask.
Gio turns for the door but stops when I ask him. He turns back to me slowly, and I can tell he’s deciding what to tell me and what not to tell me. I take a step toward him.
“Gio,” I say just above a whisper. “Please. Throw me a freakin’ bone here.”
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.
“You need to talk to Dom,” he says with a shrug as he turns back toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’ll be here till he gets home.”
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