George tips his hat while holding the door open as I exit the building. “Have a good run, Ms. Castile.”
I give him a smile along with a wave. “Thanks, George, I’ll see you in an hour!”
I take off down the sidewalk, heading toward the lakefront. Over the past few days, the weather has turned chilly. Autumn is thick in the air. The breeze is cool, but I know that once I warm up, it’ll feel invigorating.
Normally Matteo and I run together, but today I needed some time to myself. He seemed to understand that even though I never told him that I wanted to be alone. Which, in a way, makes everything more difficult. He pushes me when I need it, and takes a small step back when sensing my inner conflict.
How am I supposed to walk away from a man who is so finely attuned to me?
People spend their entire lives searching for someone who understands them. Someone they can connect with on a fundamental level. Someone who feeds their intrinsic needs and desires. That is precisely what I’ve found in Matteo.
Each night we spend making love, I find myself falling for him. Every morning when I wake in his arms, I fall a bit harder. And each kiss he gives me before heading back to his condo to get ready for work makes me count down the minutes until we’re together again.
And yet I have to make an agonizing choice.
I have to decide if I can be with Matteo.
Can I ignore everything I know about him? About his family?
If I can’t, I need to walk away now before this relationship progresses any further and I’m unable to pull myself out.
It’s been just under a week since Matteo brought me to the family compound for his parents’ anniversary celebration. I was nervous about meeting his relatives, but everyone was wonderful. So warm and welcoming. Sofia called me a few days ago, and we set a date to meet for lunch the following week along with a shopping excursion on Michigan Avenue. As happy as forming a bond with Matteo’s sister makes me, a niggle of worry keeps creeping into the back of my mind.
Whether they refer to it as the Cosa Nostra or the mafia, it still means the same thing. Illegal activities. Criminal. Unlawful. People are sent to prison for what the Valentinis are involved in. My parents spent their careers prosecuting people like them. And here I am, involved with someone who is entrenched in that lifestyle.
Whose entire family is involved in that lifestyle.
Going back generations.
We may be in the early stages of our relationship, but I know how I feel about Matteo. Already he’s left an indelible mark on my soul.
And that worries me.
I never expected to fall this hard or feel torn over making the right choice. My parents may not be alive, but I know what they would expect me to do. This decision shouldn’t be difficult. But it is. The right choice doesn’t necessarily feel right to me in this case.
Because my mind is so preoccupied, it feels like I reach the lake in record time. But I know that’s not true. I’m so stuck in my own head right now that I’m not paying attention to where I am. I’m operating on autopilot.
I wish there were someone I could talk to about this situation.
But there’s no one.
I can’t discuss it with Chloe or Jonathan.
And definitely not Dominic, who doesn’t think I should be seeing Matteo in the first place. I can’t broach the subject with Sofia either. Her loyalty belongs to Matteo. I would expect nothing less.
I guess the person I need to speak with is Matteo.
Once my mind latches on to the idea, I know it’s the right one.
I’ll do it tonight.
Matteo and I can discuss everything over dinner. I can’t invest any more of myself if we don’t have a future together. And if we do, then I have a decision to make. I either choose to be a part of the world Matteo occupies, or I walk away.
Feeling settled with a plan, I turn back toward Lexington Place. Class starts at eleven, so I need to get moving.
Dominic’s disapproval invades my thoughts. Do you think Matteo Valentini is the kind of man your father would have wanted to see you with? Someone with ties to the mafia?
As those words echo through my head, I pick up my pace trying to outrun them. My breath comes faster now. My legs ache. They feel like limp noodles, but I don’t stop pushing.
Neither of my parents would understand Matteo’s world. Nor would they understand how I could turn my back on my upbringing.
As I prepare to turn onto the street where Lexington Place is located, I notice a car careening down the asphalt, weaving in and out of traffic. Instead of slowing, the driver guns the engine. I’m safe on the sidewalk, but my pulse accelerates until it feels like my heart is pounding against my ribs.
Paralyzed by fear, my eyes stay fastened on the vehicle. It looks like it’s speeding right toward me. Adrenaline spikes through my veins, making my skin prickle with awareness.
Just as the sedan jumps the curb, I leap out of the way. My feet get tangled, and I trip, tumbling to the cement before rolling toward one of the buildings. Stunned, I lay on the sidewalk for a moment as chaos breaks out around me.
Feet pound against the pavement.
The edges of my vision grow blurry as a sense of shock fills me.
I stare sightlessly at the crowd gathered around me. Raised voices babble with disbelief. A few individuals crane their necks, looking up and down the busy street, trying to locate the vehicle that almost hit me.
But it’s gone.
It never even slowed.
“Miss? Miss? Are you okay?” The man talking to me pauses and asks, “Can you hear me?”
My eyes lock on him as he fills my line of sight. Thankfully he blocks out all the others, allowing me to focus on him.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I nod weakly. That’s when I realize that I’m still sprawled out on the sidewalk. My hands scrabble to find purchase. As I struggle to sit upright, he gently pushes me down.
“You need to stay where you are. Don’t try getting up just yet. We need to make sure that your spine and head haven’t sustained any injuries. An ambulance is on its way.”
I hurt all over. My hands and knees have taken the brunt of my fall. I don’t think anything is seriously wrong, though. I don’t remember actually being hit. But it was a close call. So close. I don’t know how I managed to escape unscathed.
“I’m-I’m okay.” I moisten my lips. My mind is spinning. I can’t think about anything other than the fact that whoever was behind the wheel of that car didn’t even stop to see if I was okay.
I tremble as that thought continues to fester. I gingerly touch the back of my skull because it’s throbbing. I can’t remember if I knocked it when I fell to the ground.
The man hovering over me has taken control of the situation. I wonder if he’s an off-duty police officer. He has an authoritative demeanor about him. Nothing feels okay right now, but the power he exudes calms me.
I feel safe even though I’m still lying on the walkway.
He runs his hands over me, probing for injury. “Tell me if anything hurts when I touch it.”
His hands are huge, but his touch is tender. As if he’s aware of his own strength.
“I’m okay.” My voice trembles. “Just a bit shaken up.”
“You took a nasty spill when you dodged that car. It’s better to wait until the ambulance arrives.” He gives me a reassuring smile. “Just to be safe.”
I nod.
Tears fill my eyes as the gravity of the situation hits me. I can’t believe this has happened. If I hadn’t jumped out of the way when I did, I could have been seriously injured.
I could have been killed.
Thank God I saw it coming.
My eyes dart around the crowd, which now looks three people deep. “I think I’m okay.” Using my hands, I lift myself up again. But like before, he gently pushes me down.
“You need to stay put, Grace. I have experience in these kind of situations, and it’s best not to move. I hear the sirens now. It won’t be long, I promise. Then the EMT’s can decide what to do. But I think they’ll want to take a closer look at you at the hospital. Maybe take a few X-rays, too. They can call a family member for you.”
That last comment brings more tears to my eyes. Other than Dominic, there’s no one to call. But this stranger doesn’t know that. Resigned, I squeeze my eyes shut to block out everything around me. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“It’s not a problem. Hopefully one of these bystanders got the license plate. I hate to see that asshole get away with a near hit-and-run.” He asks, “You didn’t happen to notice the plate number, did you?”
In my mind, all I see is a nondescript car speeding toward me.
I don’t know what color the vehicle was, let alone what was on the license plate. I couldn’t even tell if it had an Illinois plate. I only remember the feeling of panic that filled me when I realized the car wasn’t veering away, but barreling straight toward me.
Opening my eyes, I shake my head. “No, I don’t remember anything.”
Looking sympathetic, he nods. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
I’m still trying to make sense of what just happened. “Do you think it was a drunk driver?”
“It’s possible.” He glances up as the sirens become louder. “Looks like the bus is here. They’ll get you to the hospital and checked out.”
It’s hard to believe that I left my building less than an hour ago for a run to clear my head. I never could have imagined that I’d be heading to the hospital instead of back to Lexington Place after almost being hit by a reckless driver.