I would always love him, but it would no longer hurt to see him.
Oh, how wrong I had been.
I had been away a long time. And a lot had changed.
He was now a widower. And someone’s boyfriend.
Now, seeing him talking to Dante was like a knife in the heart.
Again.
I was regressing. Both men stopped talking and looked over at me. My heart stuttered. Then they said something and laughed.
I heard a voice say, “Gia Santella! There you are. I’ve been looking for you for the past hour.”
Of course he had.
It was another dude from the gala board who always stared at my tits.
But instead of wanting to run away, I now felt relief.
I turned and gave him a brilliant smile, turning toward him and placing him in front of me so he blocked my view of Dante and James.
The last thing I saw before his big head took over everything was Nicoletta in her white dress with the ugly-ass mermaid tail hem sidling up to James and putting a protective hand on the back of his wheelchair. She was staring at me with a smug fucking look the entire time.
Time to bail.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to use the ladies room.” I headed for the exit.
“Wait,” I heard him say behind me. “The restrooms are the other way.”
But then I slipped outside and opened the door to the stairs with my employee key card.
At the top of the stairs, the door to the roof was propped open. As I neared it, the first thing I saw was a midnight blue sky full of twinkling stars—a rare sight in San Francisco, which often had a glowing, orange night sky.
I stepped out and inhaled deeply. The air smelled like a combination of salt from the ocean breeze and the fresh greenness of forest, maybe blown over from Marin County.
Suddenly the waiter was in front of me.
Thank God. I was done with finding dead bodies for a lifetime.
He grabbed me and kissed me, pressing me back against the wall. I planted my palms on his chest and pushed him away. Hard. He was lucky I didn’t demolish his balls with my knee.
“What the fuck?” I said.
“I saw the way you looked at me.”
“You’re just a kid,” I said, not denying his words.
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Like I said, ‘a kid.’” But he was older than I’d thought. He actually couldn’t be my son. Thank god. I’d been feeling like a pervert for the way I looked at him earlier.
“You’re so sexy,” he said, his hands on my waist, drawing me closer. “Let me show you how sexy I think you are.”
“Where’s your vape? I asked. But inwardly I groaned. His lower body pressed against mine, and I could feel his hardness and it made any resolve I had melt away.
I hadn’t had sex for a long time. Since Ryder in Barcelona. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And before that, when Nico was still alive but in the care home, I went without sex for years. It was ridiculous. Sex was healthy.
I loved sex. I wanted sex. Once upon a time, I didn’t even think twice about having sex with a stranger. In fact, I took pride in it.
We took turns smoking his vape. It was some damn good weed. Top notch stuff.
He handed me a joint. “You can have this for later. To remember me.”
Aw, he was cute.
He leaned back toward me, his face before mine, his eyes trained on my mouth. Then his lips were on my neck.
“I think this is a bad idea,” I said. Even I recognized it as the feeble protest it was.
“I don’t believe you,” he said in a low, husky voice. “I don’t believe for one second you buy into that sexist double standard. Men can be with younger women, but women can’t be with a younger guy? That’s total crap.”
He had a point.
His mouth was working its way up my neck. One of his hands was still firm on my waist. His other hand wrapped around the back of my neck, tangled in my hair. His breath was heavy now and I matched it. The anticipation of another kiss was irresistible. All logic and reason fled my mind. My body took over.
I could feel the heat coming off of him in waves. He leaned forward, his mouth was on mine, and despite myself I groaned in pleasure. And it just got better from there.
After, I pulled the hem of my dress back down as he buttoned up his pants.
“Holy shit,” he said, still breathless.
I exhaled loudly. “Okay, maybe it actually was a really good idea.”
He pulled me close and kissed me again. I let him.
Then he drew back.
“I gotta go,” he said, looking over his shoulder, but still holding onto my waist. “Do you think maybe one day…”
He trailed off. He already knew the answer.
I shook my head.
Then he was gone, back down the stairs.
I walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down at the city below me.
I’d lived around the world, but this city would always be my compass point, my ground zero, my homing beacon.
Even though I’d grown up in Monterey, I hadn’t felt like myself until I moved to San Francisco after my parent’s murder.
It would always be home.
I rummaged around in my bag and found my pack cigarettes and gunmetal Zippo lighter.
I pulled the joint the waiter had given me from the pack, lit it, and inhaled deeply, savoring the flavor and instant feeling of mellow gold that suffused my entire body.
At first, I was more annoyed than anything when I heard voices and the door open up behind me.
I didn’t turn around. I hoped if I ignored whomever it was, they’d go away.
Then I heard the squawk of a police radio. I couldn’t make out what it said.
I froze.
“Gia Santella?” a deep voice said.
Cold fear trickled through me. “Yes?”
“You’re under arrest.”
At first, it didn’t register. Then I thought about the boy I’d been with only moments before. He’d told me he was twenty-three. And pot was legal now in California...
It took a second for me to register the rest of what the police officer had said.
“You’re under arrest for murder.”
Thirty-One
Charles watched with hooded eyes as the uniformed police officers stepped out of the elevator into the restaurant. Most of the well-dressed and half-sauced crowd didn’t notice their arrival. But Charles did.
He’d been the one to call them and tell them Gia Santella was at the party.
Shortly after they arrived James had received a call that an arrest warrant had been issued for Gia. Nicoletta had overheard the conversation in the elevator. She immediately texted Charles.
Then, when they arrived in the restaurant, Charles was standing near Nicoletta and James when Gia stepped out of the elevator.
“Shouldn’t we call 911?” Nicoletta had said to James.
He’d looked at her like she was crazy. Then he had turned his wheelchair to face someone else and struck up a conversation.
Nicoletta was ashen faced.
Charles was humiliated for her. He wanted to strangle the stupid cop. How dare he treat her like that. Nicoletta glanced over at him and Charles held up his cell phone.
She gave a sly smile.
Charles dipped into a corner and dialed 911.
Now the cops scanned the crowded room. Beatrice Stanford was closest to them. They approached her and said something that made her fling a bejeweled hand up to her mouth. Then she pointed at a door.
Less than five minutes later, the officers emerged with Gia Santella between them.
She was handcuffed. She held her head high and her eyes were straight ahead.
Damn. She was a force.
Suddenly, Charles wished he’d handled the entire thing differently.
He wanted to see what she was like in bed.
Probably the exact opposite of Nicoletta.
Gia Santella was probably a wild cat.
Now, he’d never know.
When he looked up, he saw Nicoletta watching him from across the room. She was facing the elevator. James was facing her so he couldn’t see what had stopped conversation. The crowd parted as the officers led Gia Santella toward the elevator.
When he saw Nicoletta, guilt suffused him.
He tried to justify his lust for Gia. He shouldn’t feel guilty about that.
Until he and Nicoletta left San Francisco they each shared another’s bed.
He was fucking Old Man Hollingsworth and Nicoletta was boning that gimp cop. But those liaisons were all a means to an end.
For their plan to work, they needed a police commander in their corner and they needed an inroad to Hollingsworth and his millions.
Nicoletta raised a delicate eyebrow as the police paraded Gia Santella to the elevator.
James finally seemed to get wind of what was going on and his wheelchair whirled 180 degrees in time for him to view the elevator doors closing with his ex-girlfriend inside.
So sad. Too fucking bad, Charles thought.
He was suddenly filled with pure hatred for the good-looking cop.
The man was not only fucking the woman he loved, but he had fucked the woman he lusted after. Some motherfuckers had all the luck.
But that was about to change.
If Charles knew one thing in life it was that he was responsible for creating his own luck.
And Gia Santella’s arrest was nearly the last piece in the puzzle.
Thirty-Two
The San Francisco jail smelled like piss, sweat, and stale alcohol.
They stripped me, frisked me, and then shoved me in a small room with a glass panel in the door. At first, I pressed my face to the glass trying to see something—anything—but there just a blank wall across from me. I could hear other people grumbling in other rooms nearby.
At least I wasn’t in some concrete-floored cell with a bunch of drug dealers and prostitutes. As the hours passed, I thought, then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least I’d have someone to talk to.
I was slumped in the corner asleep when the door finally opened. I had no idea how many hours later it was, but suspected it was close to noon the next day since my stomach was grumbling.
I stood and brushed the lint and dirt from the floor off my dress.
It was my attorney. He was boring looking. Gray hair. Gray suit. Gray complexion. He must never leave the inside of a court room. I didn’t care what he looked like. I wanted him to make sure I never stepped foot inside a jail cell again.
He handed me a card. He didn’t bother to greet me.
“They have a video of you killing Maxwell Carlton. It’s you. Your face. The whole works.”
“So, I heard,” I said dryly. “It’s not me.”
He shrugged.
“Come on; you made bail,” he said. “Your cop friend somehow convinced the judge to grant it and Dante paid it. There was a hell of an argument in chambers about it. The district attorney is usually a much more reasonable fellow, but he seems to have a dog in this hunt. I’m not sure why, but it’s not good. He’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure the charges stick and there is a conviction.”
Then the attorney went on to say the judge released me under house arrest to James. I had to stay at his place.
Shit. That was a mistake.
I frowned. What was James up to?
“I’ve got a friend working to expose the technology that created the video. It’s called Deepfake. Look it up. I’m going to need you to build a motherfucking watertight defense case for me based on flaws in that technology just in case I don’t find the real killer first.”
He paused and looked at me.
“I never lose,” he said.
I looked right back at him and said, “Neither, do I.”
We locked eyes and he gave a slow nod.
That’s right, motherfucker, don’t you dare underestimate me. This is the real deal.
My life and freedom is on the line here.
As we made our way to the lobby, I saw him through the glass panel in the door before he saw me.
James.
Thirty-Three
As soon as the door to his apartment closed behind us, I raced for the shower.
When I was done, I came out to find James waiting for me in the bedroom. I walked over and let the towel drop.
He pulled me onto his lap. I wasn’t surprised. The heat between us had been pure fire as we drove from the jail to his place. There was an urgency there I didn’t understand and didn’t question.
The contact of our bodies sent a pulse of fiery desire through me. I turned to face him, my knees bent and my legs straddling him. I ran my fingers through his hair, letting my fingernails race over his scalp. My eyes never left his. They were dark pools of desire. He groaned.
“James…” I began.
He put his mouth on mine before I could continue. It was as if we’d never been apart. Our bodies responded as if they were one.
I’d forgotten how hot the chemistry between us had always been. James knew how to touch me in ways that drove me wild. He knew my body better than almost anyone ever had. Nico was the exception. It was different with Nico and I because our lovemaking was infused with such intense emotion—insane soulmate-type love stuff—that the physical aspect almost took a backseat to us expressing our deep, all-encompassing love for one another.
With James, the love was there, but it was less the focus. With James, it was truly about the physical act itself, striving for intense heights of pleasure.
Then we were in his bed with the black leather headboard. I lost track of time, completely outside my head and entirely in my body.
When we were done, I snuggled up to him and put my head on his shoulder. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair. I sighed contentedly.
And then I blew it. With my big mouth.
“You know, if we got married, you couldn’t testify against me in court.”
He instantly grew stiff.
“I was just joking. Obviously neither one of us ever want to get married again.”
He didn’t answer. I glanced over. He was working the inside of his lip the way he always did when he was worried.
I sat up on one elbow. “Spill it.”
“You know I’m seeing Nicoletta.”
I smirked. “Yeah, she’s a piece of work.”
He frowned. “She’s not that bad. She’s been through a lot.”
I flopped back on the pillow and shrugged even though I knew he wasn’t looking.
“She’s not in your league,” I said. “Not even fucking close.”
“I care about her.”
I sat up. This wasn’t good. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” I asked, flinging my legs over the side of the bed. I was done with talking about Nicoletta while I lay naked with James. “You feeling guilty about tonight?”
He pulled himself to sitting. “Yeah. I guess I am. We probably shouldn’t have done this. For so many reasons.”
“Does she know you bailed me out and are vouching for me?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’ll take that as a no. Hey, relax,” I said as I pulled on my lacy thong. “You guys aren’t married. You’re still a free agent.”
Again, he didn’t respond. I started to feel a sense of dread.
I turned to face him. His eyes flickered over my bare breasts and I saw the lust already there again. Who was he trying to fool? It was irritating.
“What’s your point, James?”
“I just don’t want you to think that…you know…me and you…”
He trailed off.
It stung. I felt my heart harden and lashed out angrily.
“Grow a pair, James,” I said. “This means nothing to me. I knew what it was as soon as you kissed me. Two consenting adults. I don’t expect anything else from you. In fact, I
don’t want anything else from you. Not even to stay here. I’ll leave.”
“You can’t. I promised the judge.”
That’s when I knew. I would be gone before morning. It had always been inevitable. I had to fight for myself. As always. I was the only one I could count on to solve this problem. I couldn’t stay with James and wait for him to find the real killer. It was up to me. And I couldn’t do it locked up in this apartment.
I stared at him for a long moment.
“Gia,” he said in a softer tone, “I just didn’t want to lead you on. It’s my fault. As soon as I saw you and realized you were back in town, I knew…I knew what would happen.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I said, searching for my bra on the floor until I remembered I hadn’t been wearing one.
James was now dressed and had slid into his wheelchair. “The problem is, I’m seeing someone. I can’t be with you.”
I glared at him. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I don’t want us to be together.”
I was pissed. How did this all go to hell so quickly?
“Let me go,” I said half-heartedly. “I’ll just leave. You obviously don’t want me here. What will your girlfriend do if she finds out I’m staying here? She’s going to flip her shit.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Damn it,” he said. “You can’t leave. You’re under house arrest.”
“This was the worst idea ever,” I said. I stood, naked except for my lacy thong. “What am I supposed to wear while I’m here? My velvet dress?”
He didn’t answer, so I headed for his closet. I found a long-sleeve black T-shirt and some black cargo pants. I cinched a belt until they stayed up around my waist.
He watched me silently and then when I turned to face him, he said, “Why is it always like this with us, Gia?”
“I don’t know, James,” I said, my voice cold. “But I know that this is why we will never be together.”
He sat there for a few seconds in silence. I waited, growing even more irritated. I didn’t understand what the point of this conversation was. All I wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. It had been such a great night, but it had gone south so quickly. Part of me wanted to cry. Why had he ruined everything?
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