Chapter 11
Ella awoke the next morning in a cloud of pure happiness as she padded her way across her room and downstairs to start breakfast for her grandfather and brother. She grabbed the pan and spun around, practically dancing to the beats in her head.
“You got in late last night,” Tony said, causing her to almost send the pan airborne. He lifted himself onto the counter. His long black hair hung in wet curls across his forehead.
She swatted him with a spatula. “Grandpa sees you sitting on the counter he’s going to beat your butt.”
“I’ll take my chances. So where were you last night?” Tony asked.
Vibrations hummed through Ella’s body, a reminder of the sensations Lucas evoked in her. She cleared her throat, realizing she zoned out. “It was Taco Tuesday.”
“You were there a lot later than usual.”
“I was helping Krissy ship out orders.” There was one thing Ella hated more than liars, and that was lying herself. Her father lied to everyone and look how well that turned out. Since then she prided herself on being honest and never deceiving the people she loved, and now she was going against everything she held so dear for a guy.
But Lucas wasn’t just a guy. He was special. Someone who made her happy just by being near him. Who listened when she spoke and kissed her like he was on his last breath and she was his oxygen.
“And what about you?” Ella said, wanting to change the subject before Tony could focus on her for too long. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in your studio.”
Ella couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen him for more than a few seconds in passing.
“Sometimes the inspiration is endless, and I have to take advantage of that.” Tony had spurts where he worked nonstop and then times when he’d fall into a slump, not only lacking motivation but confidence as well.
Ella hated to see him in those times when he was consumed with overwhelming disappointment in himself and sadness in his heart. She wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him he was amazing, but she knew during that time there was nothing she could say to convince him how brilliant he was, so she stayed quiet and waited for him to come to her. Most of the time he did.
“I’m happy it’s flowing. Anything you care to show me?” she asked.
“It’s not done yet, but as soon as it is you’ll be the first person I show.”
She offered him a smile
“Buongiorno,” Vinny said as he came into the kitchen, his nose in the morning paper.
“Good morning, Grandpa,” Ella said before turning to Tony and motioning for him to get off the counter and quickly.
Tony slipped off just as Vinny lowered the paper. “Antonio, nice of you to join us this morning.”
“Sorry,” Tony said. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with my work.”
“Well, you have to eat, don’t you? Or are you starving yourself in there?”
“I get takeout.”
“From who?” Vinny asked, a slight tinge of offense in his tone.
“Mainly coffee and croissants from The Local Bean.”
“That is not food. You make sure to come in for dinner.” Vinny held Tony’s gaze with a look no one could refuse.
“Okay Grandpa. I’ll make sure to come in for dinner.”
“Good,” he said and turned his attention to Ella. “Fabriella, why you come home so late?”
She made sure not to make eye contact so she wouldn’t fall into the hole Tony got stuck in. “I was…” Her mind drifted to Lucas, the hard contours of his body, the intense glint in his eyes as he stared down at her. The way his tongue dipped in and out of her mouth in the same sensuous strokes as his body.
Heat spread across her chest, crawling up her neck in hot bursts. She couldn’t look up from the pan; if she did, she risked exposing herself. She searched her brain for words, but couldn’t seem to form the little lie. She mentally slapped herself, gathering her wits. Her lips parted, the lie forming on her tongue.
“Morning!” Marco and Enzo walked into the kitchen, and Ella felt the weight of the lie she was about to tell lift from her shoulders. She sagged against the counter in relief as Tony and her grandfather greeted her brothers.
Marco clapped his hands together. “So what are we talking about?”
“Why Ella came home late,” Tony chimed in, and Ella wanted to sucker punch him in the gut. Now she had four pairs of eyes, waiting for her to speak.
“I told you,” she said with a wave of her hand as she spun back to the stove and made herself busy cracking eggs. “I stayed late at Krissy’s to help her box up her shipments.”
“I just saw Krissy at the post office the other day,” Enzo said.
“And your point?” Ella asked.
“She had a shit ton of packages to ship out.”
Heat began its descent again, making its way across her chest and up her neck. “She had a lot more come in,” Ella said with maybe a little too much bite. She hated the uncomfortable uncertainty that came with lying, the easy slippery slope she could find herself on.
She needed to change the subject, take the heat off of her and put it onto someone else.
“Good for Krissy,” Vinny said. “I’m happy her business is doing well. And if you were with her, then okay.” He rested his hands on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “But if you were with some boy then we got problems.”
She bit her tongue, trying to find the right words to keep any suspicions pointed off of her. “I wasn’t, but even if I was, I’m an adult, Grandpa. Momma was a mother of two at my age with another one on the way.”
Vinny grabbed his chest. “You’re pregnant?”
“What?” Ella exclaimed while Tony laughed. Enzo and Marco froze in place, staring at her with dark intense gazes.
“I’ll kill the bastard,” Marco snarled.
“What bastard?” Ella asked then waved her hands to stop the nonsense. “I’m not pregnant. I was just using Momma as an example. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Enzo and Marco physically loosened up, and Vinny’s hand fell from his chest to the counter, his body leaning forward in visible relief.
“Sorry El, but you’ll always be our little girl,” Enzo said.
“Great,” Ella said with added sarcasm.
“Get used to it, sis,” Marco said, walking over and draping his arm over her shoulder. “You’re stuck with us.”
“I guess you’re not so bad, you know, when you’re not butting into my life,” she said, nudging his stomach.
He touched her neck and looked at her with curiosity. “What’s this?” he asked, and she slapped a hand over her neck.
“It’s nothing.” She didn’t even need to look to see what Marco was talking about. The red splotch of skin was a love mark from Lucas that she thought she covered well enough.
Luckily, the rest of the family were discussing the restaurant and weren’t privy to her and Marco’s exchange.
“This from the bus guy?” he asked which made Ella believe that Enzo never spilled the beans about the bus guy being Lucas Prescott.
“No,” she said. “It’s not what you think it is. I accidentally hit my skin with the curling iron.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” he asked.
“Yes, because it’s the truth,” she lied.
“If you’re lying, this guy means trouble.”
“There is no trouble because there is no guy. Now stop being my overprotective brother for two seconds and get the butter out of the fridge for me.” She shoved his chest and focused on cooking.
She felt like she was under a bright light at the police station, being interrogated for a crime she did commit but refused to admit. How long until she broke under the pressure?
Marco stared at her for a moment, but she held her ground and didn’t waiver. Finally, he nodded and went to the fridge. He came back and handed her the butter. When she went to take it from him, he tightened his hold. “Any more unexplained marks on your body and I’m breaking someone’s skull.”
“I told you,” she said, “it was the curling iron.”
“I want to believe you,” he said. “But for the first time in my life, I don’t.”
Marco’s words pierced her heart and pricked her eyes. She never lied to her family, ever, not after everything they had been through. Lies didn’t fit in their lives. Trust, honesty, reliability, that’s all they had room for.
So what the hell was she doing?