Death & Dust (New York Crime Kings Book 7), Page 3

  …I could never.

  Maria tells me to have a good time and I step out of her way, giving her access to my office. If I didn’t like Maria so much, or care about her feelings, I’d have canceled the dinner last minute.

  I don’t know what Maria’s son’s expectations are, but I hope they aren’t romantic…or sexual. I’m not looking for either of those things, but if he’s genuine and wants a friend, I’m more than happy to accommodate.

  Given Maria’s “daughter-in-law” comment, however, I suspect he’s looking for something deeper. Here’s hoping I can let him down easy.

  Outside our headquarters, I climb into a little golf cart and drive the distance to my house on the other side of the vineyard. It’s peaceful here in Siena, Tuscany. The air is clean and crisp, the sky glittering with a million more stars than I’m used to. In New York, there aren’t any stars. The light pollution wipes them out completely, but out here, it’s like looking into a velvet bag full of diamonds.

  I love living here. It makes everything I’ve gone through in my life worth it. I thrive here and I can be happy…eventually.

  I exit the cart and climb the four stone steps to my porch, digging in my handbag for my house key. My heels clack against the stone before sinking into the woven welcome mat. It’s handmade by Monique from the preserved grape vine of our very first harvest. She gave it to me as a house warming gift and I—embarrassingly—burst into tears.

  Over the course of the year, Monique has become my best friend. When I have time, we’re inseparable. Two peas in a pod, birds of a feather. I’d have gone crazy without her.

  I unlock my home and saunter inside, closing and locking the door behind me. Smells of roast chicken and vegetables linger in the air and my lips twitch at the sight of a lump of tinfoil on my kitchen counter that obviously conceals a big plate of food. I flick on the light and walk over to it. Taped to the top is a letter with my name written in green marker.

  I set my bag and keys down and pluck the letter off the top. I’m smiling before I even open it because I know exactly what it’s going to say.

  Em,

  Joel has asked me to write you a letter stating that you should cancel your date since I “slaved” over the hot stove for you.

  This is me pretending to write down his message as he dictates it to me. Ha!

  Enjoy your dinner with Ross.

  Love,

  Mon.

  I simper, and place the letter on the bench. Joel doesn’t approve of me having dinner with Ross. He doesn’t approve of me having dinner with anyone. Why would he? I had his brother. No one else can possibly measure up.

  I’m painfully aware now Jai’s gone, that I have to settle for second best or face being alone for the rest of my life. The thought of being forever alone never bothered me before I met and fell in love with Jai. I was content with my loneliness, but now? The thought of having no one terrifies me. So I’ve accepted this dinner, seeking companionship and conversation about anything other than my well-being and emotional state.

  I move through the kitchen to turn on the sitting room lights. The second they’re on, my glass wall transitions to black and I can’t see out into the vineyard, only my reflection. When I had this house built, I made sure it was one hundred percent open living. Being trapped in Skull’s room for so long has triggered claustrophobia in me. I don’t ever want to feel like I did when I was in there again.

  Most of the inner walls of my house are clear glass also and, from where I stand, I can see my large bedroom and its ensuite. On the right side of the hall, the guest bedrooms and bathrooms are walled with stone, allowing privacy. Ted and Hannah appreciate it when they come to town every now and again and stay for a few nights.

  I climb black wooden stairs to the upper hall and pause by a picture frame hanging on the stone wall. Monique put it together after Jake’s christening. I smile. It’s a photo of Ted and I kissing Jake on his bubbly cheeks, forcing his tiny pink lips to pucker. To our surprise, Joel and Monique named Ted and me Jake’s godparents. To this day, it’s the best thing to happen to me. I love that kid so much. I’d do anything for him.

  I’ve been showered with nothing but love, good luck, and prosperity since moving to Italy. It doesn’t ease the pain I feel deep down inside after losing the love of my life, but for Joel, Monique, and Jake, I persevere through the grief because they fill me with purpose. They renew my will to live every morning and I owe them everything.

  I flick my gaze over Jake. He has thick, dark hair and loads of it. We held our breath as we waited for the news to come from the delivery room. Who would the baby look like? What would they do if it looked like Skull?

  The minute I saw Jake, I blew out a breath of relief. I think we all did. That babe was a Stone. No Wolfe. The cutest bundle of tears and screams I’d ever seen.

  I force myself through my bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom, where I kick off my heels and take out my earrings. As I reach under my arm for the subtle zipper to my dress, I press a button by the bowl washbasin with my free hand and the switch-glass eases from transparent to translucent. It’s like magic, really.

  Joel and Monique helped me tweak this place to perfection. They knew all about the best fancy gadgets and tricks, and I didn’t. Before this, all I knew was cheap linoleum floors and thin plaster. I’ve come a long way…and there’s no one to share it with.

  No partner.

  No children.

  Just me.

  Slipping out of my dress and tossing my underwear to the side, I bypass the large spa bath and enter the shower. After, I blow dry and tousle my hair, apply a nude and natural look to my face with makeup that costs more than I’m comfortable admitting, and slide into a nice red slip dress.

  When I’m satisfied with my classy, yet casual outfit, I put on a small pair of black heels and exit the house. I sidestep the black golf cart in my drive, opting for the walk to Joel and Monique’s place instead. I gave Maria their address in place of mine. I figure it’s a safer option since I live alone.

  The distance to their house is shorter than the distance to the office and winery, and it’s such a beautiful walk. My favorite time to do the stroll is as the sun is setting. There’s something peaceful about the way the sun’s final rays highlight the edges of the trees as they link above my head.

  Half a mile down the track, the gorgeous vegetation becomes spaced out before transitioning into tall, groomed lemon and orange trees. I inhale the refreshing citrusy scent. Maybe I’ll gather some fresh oranges tomorrow and make juice.

  The path beneath my soles becomes grass, and in a few more steps, I’m in their backyard.

  “Hey!” Joel shouts, his voice bombarding me from the right.

  I snap my head in his direction and he waves at me as he bends over and pulls a baby onesie out of the washing basket to hang on the old line. They renovated most of their house, turning the worn cottage into a two-story modern home, but they left the clothes line as it was. Monique thought the plain, wood, and rope design was cute.

  I can see the appeal.

  I saunter toward him, weaving my way around the fruit trees and boxed vegetable gardens. When I reach him, I stand next to the washing basket and bend down to pick up a handful of baby clothes. They’re so cute and tiny and perfect. I sigh. My womb aches for it, to have a baby of my own.

  My whole world changed when Jai asked me to marry him. From that moment, I wanted nothing more than to wear the white dress and the gold rings. I craved the pain they say comes with being a mother and I wanted the swollen belly and sore breasts. I still do, but I crave it with Jai and no one else.

  “You’re still going to dinner?” He holds out his hand and I place one of Jake’s blue onesies in it.

  “Uh, yeah. I figured I’d get it over and done with.”

  “You know what I think?”

  I roll my eyes. Here we go. “I already know what you think, Joel.”

  “I think you can do better.”

&nbs
p; “I know I can do better,” I shoot back, hating the way he folds the clothes over the line and pegs it in place. “But I had the best, and since there’s no doing better than him, I’ll have to make do.”

  “Make do? This date isn’t even something you want to do.”

  He holds out his large hand and I frown, placing another onesie in it. The way he says it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I am. Is it disrespectful to Jai’s memory? The thought tightens my chest. That’s not what I want this to be, at all.

  “It’s not a date.”

  Joel cuts his dark eyes at me. “Don’t be so fucking naïve. It’s a date—one Maria guilt-tripped you into accepting—and I don’t trust anyone who needs their mother’s help getting a girl.”

  I ignore his second comment. Ross isn’t getting anything. “It’s a dinner between friends, that’s all.”

  He snorts, snatching the last of Jake’s damp clothes out of my hand. “Friends? You don’t even know the guy.”

  I shift my weight onto one leg. “Well, no. Not yet.”

  “Why do you want to be friends with this guy, anyway? And why, for the love of God, are all your friends sexy Italian men, Emily?”

  Now it’s my turn to snort. “They’re not. I have Alessandra in accounting and—”

  “What about Ezio?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “He’s the delivery man. I can’t avoid him, and I wouldn’t say he’s my friend, more of an acquaintance, and he’s certainly not sexy.”

  Not to mention he’s freaking eighteen years old. To date a younger guy at my age isn’t a sexy cougar thing. It’s plain tragic.

  “And Leo?”

  Okay. Now he’s being ridiculous. “He’s our marketing manager. He brings me the advertising to approve.”

  “And coffee.”

  “And coffee.” I shrug. Leo makes a delicious coffee. It’s nothing like the bitter stuff I couldn’t stomach back in New York. “Big deal.”

  “I don’t see Sophia bringing you coffee, and she’s your assistant.”

  Joel swipes his hands down the front of his white tank top and down the thighs of his sweatpants before scooping up the empty wicker washing basket and tucking it underneath his arm.

  “I don’t ask for it. He just does it.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  Warmth rushes into my cheeks, his implication ringing clear in my ears. He thinks Leo wants to have sex with me. Joel glares down his nose at me, and even in the limited light of the moon, I know they hold a judgmental gleam. I can feel it on my skin. Joel is fiercely protective of me. He has been since we fled Skull’s burning prison. It’s not in a romantic way, not like it is with Monique, and it doesn’t make me feel like he’s jealous, but it’s irritating all the same. The grief he gives me is the same he flings at his little sister Jessica whenever she talks about meeting her boyfriend, Luca, who Joel absolutely cannot stand.

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “It’s because Leo wants to fuck you,” he points out.

  “Yeah, I got it. No need to explain.”

  “This Ross will want to fuck you as well, and you can bet your ass he’s going to try.” He scratches the back of his head, where the longer strands fade into a close shave. “Are you lonely, is that it?” I open my mouth to deny it, but he keeps going. “You were the one who wanted to move out of our place. You had that little house built of your own accord.”

  “No, Joel. I’m not lonely, I’m just—”

  “Sex? Is that what you want?” He looks away, as if the subject makes him uncomfortable, and I all but splutter.

  “What? No.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Turning away from Joel, I storm toward the house. I’m not having this conversation with him.

  Not now.

  “I promised Jai I would look after you and keep you safe,” he states, hot on my heels. “They’re all douchebags, Emily. Pathetic little boys who only want one thing from you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “You’re still grieving. I get it. You spend all your time on the business so you don’t have to think about Jai.”

  I flinch. It’s the first time I’ve heard Jai’s name spoken aloud in months…and it stings a little.

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “It is and, quite frankly, Jai is probably turning over in his—”

  I whirl on my heel and scowl at him, my heart thundering in my chest at the sight of the familiar structure of his face. Why do they have to look so much alike?

  Maybe they don’t. Maybe I just want them to.

  “Why are you treating me like this?” I ask, proud my frustration and disappointment doesn’t leak into my tone.

  Joel looks confused. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m doing something terrible? Like I’m naïve? Like I’m a stupid, incapable sibling you have to take care of?” The emotion I fight to hide from my expression and voice manifests as tears as they well in my eyes. “Like talking to the opposite sex is betraying him.”

  My voice cracks. I hate it.

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. I’m a grown woman, Joel.” The frustration prickling under my skin builds and builds, until there’s an unbearable heat at my collar.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “And regardless of what you promised Jai, I can look after myself. You’re not my father. We’re not even family!”

  I gasp, the heat turning to a chill that penetrates my bones. I regret the words the second they fly out of my mouth. His dark eyes soften with hurt and it punches me in the gut. I can’t believe I said that. After everything we’ve been through? After everything he’s done for me?

  I step toward him. “Joel, that’s not what I meant—”

  “Enjoy your dinner.”

  He sidesteps me and I slump with an exhale as he marches toward the house. Dropping my face into my hands, I let out a groan of exasperation. I’m such an idiot. That’s not what I meant to say.

  Damn it.

  Three

  Emily

  Girls

  I march across the gravel; relieved dinner is over.

  Rosario Cioni isn’t who his mother paints him to be. Charming, he is not. If anything, he’s arrogant, spoiled, and obnoxious. After a painful main course, I couldn’t bring myself to sit through dessert with him, so, I feigned a migraine and had him bring me home early.

  He tried it on me in the car, like Joel said he would, and the aggression and resentment that rolled off him when I rejected his advances has left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  As I walk toward Joel and Monique’s beautiful stone porch, I think about Ross’s hand on my thigh and how forceful it felt as he continued to lick at my neck after I’d asked him to stop. In that moment, when he refused to stop, my body froze, and I let him do what he wanted to me in fear of something bad happening. It took me a few heartbeats, and his skinny fingers gliding up my inner thigh to realize that I was in full control of the situation, of my body. When I took that control back, I ejected myself from the situation as fast as I could—before he had the chance to lock me inside his car and drive away.

  Perhaps that’s me being dramatic.

  Perhaps it isn’t.

  I climb the gigantic stone steps one foot at a time and stop on the porch with a heavy exhale. I’ve learned my lesson. Don’t agree to date a guy just because their momma puts in a good word and makes delicious tiramisu.

  “How’d it go?”

  My heart leaps into my throat.

  “Jesus,” I startle, clenching my chest as I angle my body toward the large, dark cane armchairs in the corner. My eyes adjust to see Joel sitting in one, his arms draped along the rests, and Monique perched on his lap wearing a tiny, white nighty, her hair piled into a messy bun on the top of her head.

  “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Moving toward them, I focus
on regulating my breathing and slowing my heart. Who sits on a porch at this hour anyway? It’s almost ten p.m.

  “How was dinner?”

  Groaning, I grab an empty chair and dump myself into it. “Horrible.”

  I see their features clearly as the large, bright moon casts a glow over the house. Monique pouts and Joel simpers all smug-like.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him. “Say I told you so.”

  “I reserve that kind of taunting for family.”

  I wince. Ouch. Guess I deserve that. I glance down at my hands and nervously pick at one of my nails. “I didn’t mean what I said. It came out wrong and I’m sorry.”

  I look at him and he exhales, his face softening as he pats Monique’s thigh. “It’s no big deal, Em. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “So, we’re good?”

  He nods. “We’re good.”

  Relief rolls through me. The thought of ruining what we have is sickening. I’d have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for them. I don’t know what I’d do without my support system, and even though I don’t talk to them about my grief, I know they’re there if I ever need someone to listen. That’s priceless to me.

  “I’m a little cold out here,” Monique announces, slipping from his lap. “Let’s go inside.”

  I lift myself out of my chair as she tugs Joel to his feet.

  “Do you want wine?” she asks him.

  “I’ve got to go to bed,” he replies. “I have to be at the office bright and early tomorrow.”

  “What about you, Emily? Do you want some wine?”

  One glass won’t hurt. Besides, it helps me sleep. “Since I couldn’t finish the one with dinner, I don’t see why not.”

  I trail behind them as they stroll across the porch, their fingers tightly entwined, their arms brushing as they bounce off each other.

  I envy them and what they have.