Chapter Eighteen
Chiara
I honestly don’t know where Frankie will be, or what he’ll be doing on a Saturday afternoon. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Doesn’t he wonder why I don’t call him, or text him? Does he care that I absolutely don’t want to know where he is or what he’s doing?
Maybe what he said about wanting me since I was a teenager was just a lie. Mobsters lie, and cheat, and steal. My father has lied to my mom and cheated on her countless times. I should be prepared for it. I should be ready for more of the same from my husband.
I decide to begin looking for him at his penthouse apartment, in the building he owns. When I arrive, I find two of his men reading the paper in the lobby, I assume he’s here. And before they can stop me, I’m on the elevator and touching the button for the top floor.
Well, if he’s with his mistress, I’m sure his men will warn him. I arrive at his floor, and find two more men standing outside his door. Is this all really necessary? Is this what I have to look forward to?
One of them opens the door before I can knock. They’ve been warned I was on the way. Another man, Frankie’s assistant, nods when I enter. No one looks flustered, like they were just escorting hookers out the back door.
“Mr. Moretti is in his bedroom, Miss,” he informs me. As if I know where his bedroom is. When I give him a look, he nods and says, “This way.”
I follow him, looking around at Frankie’s apartment with fresh eyes. It is impeccably decorated, expensively adorned. He has good taste in everything, from rings to… Fuck, my ring. In my anger and haste I’d forgotten about it. “I need to use the restroom, if you don’t mind?” I murmur.
“This way,” he says, and points toward a door.
Inside, I dig the ring out of its pocket in my purse. I sigh with relief when it’s on my finger, flush the commode, then turn on the water. I don’t want him thinking I’m unhygienic.
I nod, and give him a wry smile. “This way,” he says again. Broken record much? He stops at a door, gives me a half bow from his shoulders, and walks off.
I knock, and Frankie immediately opens the door. There’s a man in the room with him, which would pique my interest if he wasn’t holding a fabric pencil, with a pin cushion on his wrist.
“You caught me,” Frankie says with a warm smile. “I’m having a new tuxedo tailored for the wedding.” I notice he’s wearing a fancy black jacket and black trousers, and no shirt. He looks incredible without a shirt, his washboard abs are… Not Misha, I remind myself.
“Could I have a moment of your time, alone?” I ask pointedly, while staring at the other man.
“Of course,” he says, and nods to his tailor. Then, he takes the jacket off and hands it to the man. Damn, Frankie shirtless is a marvelous thing. His chest must be as big around as I am tall. He catches me looking, and grins.
I have to remember why I’m here.
“Did you know your brother kissed my sister!” I yell, accusingly.
He chuckles at my distress. “Well, they’re married, so…” He shrugs. His shoulders are a thing of beauty. He should really put on a shirt.
“Not that brother, and not that sister,” I spit out.
He looks confused for several moments. Then clarity comes. “Dante kissed Guilia?” he asks.
“Yes, Dante kissed Guilia at Matteo and Angelina’s wedding, and a few times since then apparently,” I inform him.
He stares at me thoughtfully for several moments. “What do you want me to do about it, Chi? They’re both adults.”
I’ve never wanted to hit someone as much as I much to hit my fiancé right now. “Guilia is not an adult, Frankie. She’s a child in a woman’s body.”
His dark chocolate eyes seem almost playful. “Maybe you coddle her, Chi. Have you thought of that? She’s twenty-one, and she’s very pretty.”
My hand is faster than my brain. I pull back, and release, but he catches my wrist before impact. It stuns me that his reaction was that fast. He’s stunned that I actually tried to strike him.
“There’s something going on here that I don’t understand, Chi. Dante came to me and told me he cares for Guilia. I gave him my blessing.” I try to pull my hand away from his, to attempt another slap, but he holds it firm. And then he says what I’ve been dreading. “Your father didn’t seem to have a problem with it either.”
I stare into his eyes for several moments. Then I tear my hand away from his, turn away from him, and scream as loud as I can. Somehow I knew, in the back of my mind, my father would betray his promise to me. Did he think I’d marry Frankie, and what, fall in love with him? Get pregnant? Then I’d be trapped and unable to do anything when Dante proposed and my father said yes?
I feel his big hands on my shoulders, and I pull away again. “Don’t you touch me, you asshole.”
“I don’t understand your reaction here, Chi. He won’t hurt her.” He really doesn’t seem to understand why I’m angry, and that makes me even more pissed off.
“He’d hurt her by marrying her. Don’t you understand that?” I hear my voice, and I’m almost screeching. My emotions are taking over. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed anyone to see just exactly how protective I am of my little sister, and how far I’d go to keep her safe. No one except Misha, and he forced me to admit it.
“Dante gave his word he’d treat her well, and you know if he doesn’t I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
I spin around, and I want to hit him again. My eyes must be on fire, because he actually takes a step back. “And my father gave his word that if I married you, he wouldn’t allow Dante to marry Guilia. So I see how much a man’s word is worth.”
“What?” He looks even more stunned than when I tried to hit him.
I cross my arms in front of my chest, and bite my bottom lip. I’ve said too much. I went way too far this time. My emotions are out of control, and I don’t know how to reel them back in.
He takes a step toward me, and suddenly his size and his muscles are intimidating. “What did you say, Chiara?”
I turn away from him again, but he grabs me and forces me to face him. I try to pull away, but he holds me firmly.
“You’re saying you don’t want to marry me? That you’re doing this…” He scoffs, and glances away as if he can’t believe it. “You’re marrying me because of a promise from your father?”
I can see he’s angry, but he’s containing it well. I say nothing. I’m in self-protection mode now.
“Answer me, Chiara,” he demands, loudly.
I look him right in his eyes, and I nod. “Yes.” It’s his turn to silently glare at me. “I thought you knew.” Saying it deflates most of my anger, especially when I see his reaction on his face. He looks sad, and hurt, and honestly wounded by my words.
He looks away, and slowly, by millimeters, his hands move down my arms, then he releases me. “Your father told me to give you time, that you’d just got out of a bad relationship. He told me you’d always been the sensitive one. He said you’d come around, eventually.”
Did he say I was a virgin? I wonder.
He walks away, toward what must be a bathroom. I hear water running. I should go. I should find my fucking father, and put a bullet in his head. I wonder if Misha would let me borrow his gun.
I’ve got my hand on the doorknob when I hear, “So you’re gonna drop a bombshell like that, and just walk out the door?”
“I thought it would be best for both of us if I go,” I say.
“Your father knew I’d wanted you all along. He practically dangled you in front of me when negotiating the costs of Matteo’s wedding. He wanted my family to buy the dresses for the wedding, then he mentioned how you deserved a more expensive dress than he could afford. He talked about you coming home for the wedding, while asking me to pay for the reception.”
I knew that my dad didn’t have the money to put on the spectacle that Angelina demanded. I just didn’t realize I was what he was bartering with. He’s even more cruel than I realized.
He seems closer when he continues. “He told me when to ask you out, when to ask you to marry me. He gave me a timeline. He orchestrated our entire relationship.”
I lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes, fighting tears.
He reaches out and touches my shoulder lightly. “Say something, Chi. I have to hear what you think.”
I want Misha. I don’t want you. I don’t love you.
I shake my head. I cannot think about Misha right now. I have to focus on Guilia. I turn toward him, and with tears in my eyes and my voice, I negotiate. “I’ll marry you, Frankie, but the conditions still stand. Dante doesn’t marry Guilia. And if he lays another hand on her, I’ll cut his dick off.”
He shakes his head, but his eyes are as watery as mine are. “I can’t marry you if you don’t want me, Chiara. I won’t.”
I sigh, and wipe my cheeks. “Then you’ll never have me.” I turn the doorknob, and open the door.
“Wait,” he says, and closes it gently. “Wait.” He inhales deeply, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s conflicted. “You have to want me. You have to want this.” He reaches down toward me, and lightly kisses my lips.
I reach up, and touch his shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, I move my fingertips up his neck, and bury them in his dark curls. I’m worse than my father. I’m a whore. I’m selling myself for my sister’s protection. But haven’t I been for months? The only difference now is Frankie knows. And of course, Misha is in my life now.
I pull away, and with my fingers still in his hair, I insist, “You have to tell my father.”
He smiles at me, and nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. Whatever you want, my light.”
I reach up on my tiptoes, and kiss him again. Seducing Frankie to get him to do what I want will be so much easier, now that I know what I’m doing.
At least I can thank Misha for that.