“Does Sebastian know any of this?” Mauricio asked.
“If he does, it’s not from me. Mom didn’t want to worry him, and I agreed. He’s where he needs to be this time. I can handle this.” My stomach churned, and I sat up, fearing I might throw up. “I’m such an idiot. Why did I call Gian?”
“He had a right to know,” Wren said.
Sounding like he was moving around while he spoke, Mauricio said, “Don’t worry about Gian—Wren and I will track him down and talk him through this. When does Dominic arrive?”
“I don’t know. I have people watching all the airports in the area. As soon as he touches down, I should be informed.”
“Good, that gives us a little time. If Gian wants to be there to meet him, Wren and I will go with him. Meet with Dominic; we’ll handle this side.”
The room was spinning, and I felt light headed. “Meet with Dominic. Fix everything. Got it.”
“You’re drunk, Christof. Do us all a favor and put your phone outside your reach tonight.”
“I can do this, though, right? I mean, I’m good at situations like this.” I felt like the boy who had once turned to a complete stranger for reassurance. Tequila had been off my drinking list for a long time, but now Nona’s special brew would be as well.
Mauricio sighed. “Christof, this is probably the craziest story I’ve ever heard in my life. If it was anyone else telling me, I would think they were making the whole thing up. You’re good at mediating and bringing resolution to difficult situations, but of course you’re not sure what you’re doing. No one would be—this is bananas. You’re the right one for this job, though. Sebastian would have gone in with guns blazing. How much does McKenna know?”
“Everything.”
“And she agreed to go with you on the trip? Wren, tell me if I’m wrong, but I think he needs to marry this one. Seriously, you will not find another woman with that kind of balls.” After a moment, he said, “Wren agrees. She’s a keeper.”
“Are we sure Dominic isn’t dangerous?” Wren asked in the background. “I don’t like the idea of Christof taking him on alone.”
A crystal-clear thought pierced my otherwise-muddled thoughts. “I’m not alone, Wren. I’ve got a pit crew.” Back in the States as well as in Italy. “I’ve got this now, thanks.”
In a softer tone, Wren said, “Christof, this is a lot for you, but it’s probably also a lot for McKenna. Keep her safe.”
I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me, so I said, “I will. I’m her crew as well.”
“I’m not sure what that means, but Mauricio is right . . . turn off your phone now and put it in a drawer. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
I lay back down on my bed. Almost instantly my eyes began to close. I mumbled, “Text me when you know Gian is okay.”
With that, I gave in to the sweet oblivion of sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MCKENNA
As soon as I woke up, I closed my eyes and attempted to wake a second time. No, I refused to believe that I was hungover on my first morning in Italy. If I closed my eyes long enough, when I next opened them, not only would I wake up feeling better, but also I absolutely wouldn’t remember getting drunk in front of Christof’s family.
Conceding that the pounding in my head couldn’t be wished away, I told myself to pull a Christof and forget as much as I could. There was no need for me to remember every stupid thing I’d said, including telling him I bet he was good in bed. I groaned.
Yeah, I’d gone there.
Sober me didn’t know which sexual move drunk me had been about to brag I could do, but I half wished he’d let me finish the sentence. Apparently, subconsciously I was incredibly proud of some skill I had. Something worth exploring with him later . . . if he was still speaking to me.
No, really, Christof, this is me being helpful . . . just also a little horny.
There I’d been practically throwing myself at him, and he’d left like the gentleman he was. I couldn’t imagine any of the men I’d been with walking away and promising to return when I was sober.
I’ve had way too much alcohol-assisted sex in my life.
I don’t like what that says about me . . . or the men I’ve been with.
There was a light knock, followed by the door opening. A perfectly groomed and smiling Christof entered holding a breakfast tray.
My hands went to my tangled hair, and then I tested my breath against my hand—couldn’t be worse. I wanted to tell him to get the hell out until I figured out how to make myself look or feel like myself again, but the expression on his face was so sweet I couldn’t.
Fuck it.
I sat up and scooted back against the headboard. “Morning.” Oh, good, my voice sounds deep and gravelly, like a truck stop waitress who’s smoked the last thirty years of her life away.
Soak all this sexiness in, Christof.
He placed the tray on my lap. It was then I noticed yesterday’s clothes still on my body. Perfect.
He smiled down at me. “Mind if I sit?” He pulled up a chair.
What could I say? I shook my head.
Leaning forward, he referenced what was on the tray. “There’s ibuprofen if you need some. A glass of water. Toast in case you’re queasy. I didn’t know if you wanted to taste some of the local cuisine, so I added prosciutto, some cheeses, a sliced tomato, Pia’s homemade yogurt, a croissant from the bakery down the street, and of course coffee strong enough to grow hair on your knuckles. I already had two cups, or I’d join you.”
Maybe it was the headache; maybe it was because no one had ever brought me breakfast in bed—ever—but my eyes misted up. “You did all this?”
“It was nothing.”
I blinked a few times fast. “You might be too good for me, Christof.”
His head cocked to one side, and he frowned. “You flew halfway around the world to help me with a family matter. All I did was slap a little food on a tray and carry it down the hallway. If we’re in a contest for who is nicer, you’re still in the lead.”
He kissed me then. Me with my crazy hair, bad breath, and wrinkled clothes. I melted into it.
When he sat back, he hung his hands between his knees and sighed. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Oh my God, he likes me, but he can’t handle morning-after-binge breath. I can’t blame him—it’s a huge turnoff for me too. I opened my mouth to admit as much to him, but he spoke before I had a chance to.
“I called Gian last night and told him he has other siblings and that I was here to meet one of them.” He covered his face with one hand, then lowered it. “I could blame the wine, but it doesn’t matter why I did it. All that matters is he knows, he’s hurting, and I made everything worse.”
I found my voice. “No, Christof. The truth doesn’t make things worse. It changes things, maybe how things happen, but I can’t believe the truth is ever better hidden.” In the sober light of day, I was once again grateful my mother had been blunt about not wanting to see me. I had friends who constantly tried to mend unhealthy relationships because they didn’t want to give up on them. My mother had closed the door between us—a gift, really.
His smile was tight. “I hope you’re right. Mauricio texted me this morning. He and Wren are staying at Gian’s house with him for the next few days. He’s pissed, but not enough to kick them out. I’m glad he’s not alone. I’m torn between staying here and trying to meet with Dominic or going home to Gian. When one of us is hurting, we all are.”
I held a hand out to him. He laced his with mine. I could love this man. Not just a little. The whole damn ever-after shit. “I can’t tell you where you belong, but I’m all in for either if you want me to be.”
For a long time he sat there looking into my eyes with an expression I couldn’t decipher. If I really could have read his mind, I would have sworn he’d just thought, I want you to be wherever I am.
Or that’s what I want him to be thinking. For all I know, he’s ab
out to ask me if I mind ending this charade early to go home. If his brothers end up coming, will a fake engagement be necessary anymore?
“And you think I’m the nice one.” He shook his head. “Confession time—”
Don’t be married.
Or in love with someone you wish you’d married.
Or dying.
I could handle almost anything else.
Okay, also don’t be a criminal.
I squeezed his hand tight. “You can tell me anything.”
He left me hanging long enough that I really started to worry. “I don’t know as much about fixing cars as I led you to believe.”
I withdrew my hand. “You’re a jerk, you know that? I thought it was something serious.” The tray wobbled on my lap.
He righted it, then caught my hand and held it loosely between his knees. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” His expression tightened. “I’m a little over my head here. I don’t know what to say to Dominic when I meet him—if he even agrees to see me. I thought I did, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure. Sebastian would meet him head-on, back his ass right onto his plane and into the air. He wouldn’t care how rich or powerful Dominic is. It’d be all-out war. What if that’s what it takes to keep my family here safe? I woke early and just lay there thinking about how much this town has suffered at the hands of the Corisis. Am I wrong to think of him as family? What if all I do by going in soft is give him another chance to take a swipe at these people? They can’t win against him.”
“But you could?”
“Maybe. I don’t have Sebastian’s clout, but I have connections to people who might.”
“Oh, you mean you know people who know people who make problems disappear.” I quoted his family with enough sarcasm that I hoped he saw how wrong I felt that idea was. Christof’s confusion was understandable. I felt for his family as well. Their fears were founded in experience. They’d fought this battle before and lost. Winning required confidence, though, and focus. “You’re not your brothers. If you try to handle this the way they would, you will fail. You’re a good man who believes family is more important than anything else. When you told me your plan would work, I believed it because you did. The only thing you’ve done wrong so far is doubt yourself.”
“I appreciate you saying that, but—”
“Maybe I’m as wrong as you’re afraid you might be, but I want Dominic to meet his grandmother. I want Gian to have a chance at a relationship with him—and his biological mother. Your plan is the only way any of that is possible. War doesn’t bring people together. You said it yourself—they’re caught in a cycle of hurting each other. I believe you’re here because you’re able to look past everything they’ve done wrong and see good in both sides.”
“I thought I could. When I see the kids and think about how Dominic with all his money and all that power is coming here to take food off their table, steal the beds they sleep in, I don’t want that man near Nona. I don’t want him near Gian.” In a lower tone, he said, “Or you.”
I didn’t have a fast answer for that one. I had no idea what was in Dominic Corisi’s soul. What I did know was that there was another possible loss on the table. I’d seen it a hundred times in the racing world, but for a very different reason. People came into racing because they loved cars and speed. Over time, the lure of money and fame brought them to a place where they could win if they compromised their ideals a little. In the racing world a cheat could bring in a fortune. Taking down an opponent off the track by messing with their sponsors could also tip the scales. It was a heady temptation. Those who gave in to it were forever different, even if they didn’t get caught.
Christof could strike first against Dominic. He could align with his cousins and drive him out of town—but those actions wouldn’t fit who he was or what he believed was right, and the weight of doing that would change him. “You don’t have to worry about me, Christof. I might not look it, but I can throw a mean punch.”
He chuckled without much humor. “I bet you can.”
I put the tray beside me on the bed and turned so I could lower my feet to the floor. Leaning forward, I laid a hand on his chest. “What does your heart tell you to do?”
He placed his hand over mine. “I want the happy ending.”
Whenever we were together, I wanted to believe those were possible. I smiled. “Close your eyes and imagine what it would look like.”
He didn’t at first.
“This is the advice you gave me when we first met, and it was damn good advice. Now close your eyes.” When they were shut, I said, “Imagine that conversation with Dominic. Let yourself be in that moment. Think about what you want him to hear. Think about what would reach a man like him.”
“Okay.”
I gave him a moment, and then I said, “Open your eyes.”
He did.
I continued, “Now just fucking make that happen.”
He laughed. “I love you.”
We both went awkwardly red.
He corrected, “I mean I love this—us.”
That was a lot as well. Too much for me to be able to breathe. I was torn between kissing him and bolting for the door. So I sat there simply staring at him.
He stood. “I bet you’d like to shower.”
I nodded. No matter where the day took us, that was a very necessary first step. “Yes.”
“The shower is in the bathroom in the hall. There’s no lock on the door, but if you hang a shoe on the outside, people know not to go in. I suggest a short shower, though, because the kids don’t always respect the shoe.”
“Gotcha.” I rose to my feet and looked until I’d located my luggage on the floor at the end of the bed.
“McKenna?”
Our eyes met. “Yes?”
His kiss took me by surprise. It started light, then deepened. My hands found his hair. His found my ass. We ground against each other.
When he raised his head, his eyes were burning with the same need that was throbbing through me. “If we were anywhere but here.”
I dragged his head back down and kissed him with everything inside me, until I finally took a step back. “Yeah.” Decker Park, Ty, and the others felt like another lifetime. It scared me how easily everything else faded to the background when we were together. I needed to clear my head. He stood there, not saying a word, as I picked up my suitcase and headed out the door. “Thanks for breakfast, Christof. I’ll eat it after my shower.”
He stepped to the door of my bedroom as I made my way across the hall to the bathroom. I had just hunted down a shoe to hang on the doorknob when I heard his grandmother yelling at him in Italian.
His grin made him look years younger. “I’m in trouble. I’m not supposed to be in your room.”
“Better go, then,” I said with an answering smile. I closed the door and leaned against the back of it. Christof and I were in Italy to help his family through a difficult and possibly dangerous situation. Why did I feel giddily happy?
He’d said he loved me.
I looked down at the ring on my left hand. I’d almost said it back.
Love took time. Months. Years, maybe. It didn’t hit like lightning one day into a fake engagement. No, whatever this was, it wasn’t love.
Infatuation?
Lust?
Something.
Definitely not love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHRISTOF
Right in the middle of a long lecture in Italian on how I needed to show McKenna more respect in her house, Nona asked me if I was hungry. When I said I wasn’t, she continued to lecture me about how the way I treated my future wife now was how she would treat me and our babies later. Papa, she said, was from another town. He had slept in the barn until their wedding night. With her hands waving in the air, Nona told me she hadn’t held the smell against him because everything he’d done, even smelling like cow dung, had been because he respected her. Love, Nona said, started with respect and died as soon as it le
ft.
I sat at her kitchen table nodding politely. I didn’t dare smile at the reference to the cow dung.
Nona sat across from me and in Italian said, “I still miss him. I tell him I want to come now, but he says I have to wait. I have more to do here. What more is there?”
The fact that I didn’t believe a person could speak with the dead didn’t stop me from getting goose bumps. Who knew: perhaps when you were as close to crossing over as Nona was, the veil between where we were and where we were headed thinned. With no one else in the house, I took the opportunity to speak to her about a subject I knew would be difficult for her. “He’s right, Nona. You have family who loves you, who want to meet you but haven’t yet. You do still have work left to do. You need to save this family.”
Her eyes lit with fire. “From the devil?”
“No, Nona. From the fear of him. The man you call the devil is dead. Whatever evil he did should die with him. But your daughter, Rosella, had children who want to know you. Family, Nona. Family who should be at this table with you.”
“Rosella is dead to me,” Nona said in Italian, then repeated it in English for emphasis.
Dead. I get it.
There had to be something I could say that would soften her heart.
“If my mother made a mistake, would I be dead to you, Nona? I love you. Would I not be welcome here?”
She gripped my hand. “Mauricio, nothing could make me not love you.”
I didn’t correct her. I laid my free hand over hers and wondered if I was wrong to discuss something so serious with her when she still confused me with my brother. In the past I’d found amusement in it, but there was nothing funny about her confusion. I felt sad for her and for Dominic, his sister, and Gian, who would never know the grandmother I’d had. Still, McKenna’s words echoed in my mind. This was the only way that had a hope of ending the fighting. “Nona, I have a brother who is also Rosella’s son. Do you have no love in your heart for my brother?”
The Secret One Page 16