Chapter Twenty-Four

Rob

After finishing our dogs, we walk around the pier a little more – mostly people watching. Harper seems to enjoy making up stories and scenarios for people. She's hilarious and I don't remember the last time I've laughed as hard or enjoyed an evening more.

I hand her an ice cream cone from the small ice cream shop and we walk around a bit more, enjoying our sweet treat. It's getting late and the air is cooling down, making it a very pleasant evening. She shudders though, so I take off my coat and drape it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she says, giving me a shy smile.

“You're very welcome.”

The pier itself isn't that large and I'm sure we've circled it half a dozen times already. But, Harper wants to keep going and with each circuit, she seems to find something new to ogle and rave about. The way she sees the world – almost with a childlike sense of wonder about it – is entirely charming. And I find myself laughing and seeing things in new and unexpected ways.

I've lived in LA for a while now and I've been to the Santa Monica pier probably more times than I can count. But I've never seen it the way Harper does – not until tonight.

She snacks on her cone and looks at me with an expression I'm coming to recognize – she's curious about something and isn't quite sure how to ask the question.

“You know,” I say, “if you ask me a straight-forward question, you're pretty likely going to get a straight-forward answer.”

She looks away, an amused, but embarrassed, grin on her face. She takes another bite of her ice cream cone and tries to collect herself.

“That obvious, huh?” she asks.

I shrug. “I'm pretty good at reading people.”

“I just – it's probably a really personal question,” she says. “And I know I have no right asking it or expecting an answer.”

I swallow a bit of my cone. “Tell you what,” I say. “From now on, any questions you have, feel free to ask them. If I think it's too personal or would prefer to not answer, I won't.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “And that works both ways.”

“Deal,” I say. “So, what's your question?”

“Well, I heard a rumor –”

“Uh oh,” I say and grin. “Rumors never lead anywhere good.”

She laughs, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. There's an underlying tone of seriousness in her voice and her expression. It definitely seems like a question that has been weighing heavy on her.

“Well, the rumor says that you're part of the Mafia,” she says. “That you're actually, the head of a crime family.”

I sigh and look away for a moment. It's something I shouldn't be surprised she found out, but one I wish she hadn't. I don't want my past to change the way she sees me. I don't want to be defined by my family, nor do I want her to think badly of me.

But I know that my past is something I can't run from. And I'm working on making a break from it. Trying to build a better future – one free of the violence and crime I grew up surrounded by. I know I have to tell Harper something, but I know if I tap dance around it or try to give her some non-answer answer, she'll see right through it – and that might change how she sees me.

I'm caught between a rock and a hard place – and the only way I can see to get out of it is by going straight through it.

“I owe you honesty,” I say. “I think you deserve that. Yes, technically speaking, I'm the head of the Rossi crime family.”

Her eyes grow wide and I see genuine fear on her face – and it kills me. I hold my hand up though to, hopefully, forestall her judgment.

“Before you think I'm the anti-Christ, hear me out,” I say. “Please.”

She still looks scared, but she nods. “My grandfather started the family business,” I say. “Mostly small-time stuff – booze, drugs, bookmaking, loansharking, hookers. Then, when he retired, my father took over and he took the organization big time. In addition to all the things my grandfather did, my dad expanded on them big time. And then added trafficking in weapons internationally on top of it. The Rossi family became the most prosperous as well as the most feared organization on the East Coast. My father was one of the smartest people I ever knew – and by far, the most ruthless. That's what I grew up in.”

“My God, Rob,” she gasps.

“When my father – died,” I say. “I took over and decided that things are going to be different. I'm not going to let the Rossi name remain synonymous with violence and murder. I decided that the Rossi family is going legit and I began divesting from all my father's business interests and started investing in legitimate ventures. Like I told you, condominiums, luxury resorts, casinos. Everything I'm doing, I'm doing with the hope that I can rehabilitate my family name.”

I can see the expression on her face shifting – gone is the fear, replaced by something different. Something I can't quite put a name to. One I'm afraid to put a name to, simply because I can't read it.

“That's – I can't even imagine growing up that way,” she says.

I shrug. “Never a dull moment,” I say, and force out a laugh. “Thankfully, I always had my mom and my sister. They were my moral compass. They taught me right from wrong and in many ways, shaped the person I am today. It's because of them that I got an education and ultimately, made the decision to do what I'm doing – I'm trying to honor them by doing the right thing.”

“Where are they?” she asks. “Are they still in New York?”

I feel that old, familiar pain in my heart that I get whenever I think about them. It's been years now, but the pain is still fresh. Still raw.

“No, they – died,” I say.

She reaches out, takes my hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I'm so sorry,” she says. “I didn't know.”

“I know you didn't,” I say. “No way you could have.”

“Can I ask how they – passed?”

It's a delicate way to phrase the actual question she wants to ask – did they die because of what the family did? But, I appreciate the gentleness with which she approached it.

“They were murdered,” I say. “I was at school at the time, but I got the details. My father, mother, and sister were out to dinner. They were stopped at a light when somebody on a motorcycle pulled up next to them. The assailant used an uzi with armor piercing bullets to shoot up the car. They all died at the scene.”

Harper leans forward and wraps herself around me, squeezing me tight. A powerful wave of emotion rises up within me as I hold her close and just thinking about my mom and sister dying in that way – it never fails to bring me to the brink of tears. But, as always, I stuff it all down and lock it all away inside. That pain and grief is for me and me alone.

“I'm so sorry, Rob,” she says, her voice gentle and kind.

“Thank you,” I reply softly.

After a few moments, she steps back and looks up at me. “Did they ever find who – did it?”

I shake my head. “Not even close,” I say. “I even had my own people looking into it and they came up empty too. As near as I can tell, it was a rival family looking to move into my father's territory and cut into his business.”

“I can't even begin to imagine,” she says. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay,” I say. “I've come to terms with it.”

Her smile is warm and filled with compassion. “I don't think that's necessarily true,” she says. “I can see the pain in your eyes. Not that it's wrong. What you went through was – traumatic. To say the least.”

“It's what made me move out here, honestly,” I say. “It's the impetus for me doing what I'm doing.”

“For whatever it's worth,” she says, “Your mom and sister sound like remarkable women and I think they'd both be so proud of you.”

I pull her close to me again, wrapping her up in a tight embrace as I fight off another wave of emotion. Eventually, I step back and clear my throat.

“Anyway,” I say. “That's enough of that. We're here to have fun, right?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm having a fantastic time.”

I look at her and hold Harper's gaze for a long moment. “I am too,” I say. “It's not the night I had planned for us, but maybe, it's the kind of night we needed.”

“I was thinking the same thing, actually.”

“Come on.”

I take her hand and pull her along with me. There's not much we haven't seen or done on the pier yet – except for one thing.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“You'll see.”

I buy us each a ticket for the Ferris wheel and we jump in line, waiting for our turn to board. That light of childlike wonder is back in her eyes and I can't help but smile. Our turn comes up and we climb aboard, the wheel lifting us into the nighttime ocean air. Harper looks around at all the lights of the pier from a higher vantage point and her smile only grows wider.

With the cool air making her cheeks flush and the breeze rippling through her hair, Harper's beauty defies description. Just looking at her makes my heart nearly stop in my chest.

She turns and looks at me. “Thank you,” she says. “For tonight. For everything. And most of all, for talking to me and being honest.”

“I won't ever lie to you, Harper,” I say. “You deserve better than that.”

As the words fall out of my mouth, of course, my thoughts turn immediately to Landon. I think about the lies he's told her. About the plan he had for her. And as those thoughts race through my mind, I feel the anger in me bubbling up again.

It's all I can do to stuff it down and not tell her what I know about Landon. Not tonight. Tonight is supposed to be for fun and for enjoyment. The last thing I want to do is drop that on her when we're having such a good time. But as I look into her wide, innocent eyes, I feel more resolved than ever to tell her – and to make sure Landon never sees her again.

We reach the top of the wheel and it pauses. High up in the air, we look down at the people on the pier below us and laugh for no real discernable reason. It just feels good to be with Harper and feel so free and unencumbered. It's a feeling I don't think I've ever experienced in my life before. And like a drug, I find myself wanting more of it.

Maybe Cordy is right – she is good for me.

The smile on Harper's face lights up the night and infuses me with a powerful energy. We share a long, lingering look, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm leaning forward and pressing my lips to hers. There's a moment of awkwardness where neither of us moves and I start to think I'd misread the situation and made a horrible mistake.

But then I feel her body melt into mine a bit and her mouth opens. Harper puts her hands around the back of my neck and our tongues tentatively and hesitantly begin to explore each other, doing a slow dance of discovery.

The kiss doesn't last long, but it's long enough that my heart is thundering in my chest. And when I pull back, I see the same sort of thunderstruck expression on her face I can feel on mine. But then she grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers together. Laying her head on my shoulder, she has a contented, warm smile on her face as the Ferris wheel begins to descend.

Yeah, it's not the night I had planned out, but it wound up being an absolutely perfect night all the same.