So, I say nothing, bidding Saverio goodbye, as I lead Sierra back to the sanctity of our private rooms.
42
SIERRA
My thoughts veer all over the place as I lie in bed with my back to Ben. I’m so pissed at him for lying to me. How could he let me stay here knowing that disgusting man and his equally obnoxious daughter were sharing the same floor space? Okay, I know I’m probably overreacting a little. This place is ginormous, and we have armed men protecting us, but it didn’t stop that conniving bitch from confronting me outside.
“I want her gone,” I say, knowing instinctively that Ben isn’t sleeping. “I want both of them gone.” I’ve had time to think about the conversation since we left the west wing, and I know Scarface Salerno had something to do with Tony disappearing. I don’t want to contemplate the thought he is in a shallow grave somewhere, but that’s what those guys do. Tony broke into his office and stole from him. There is no way Salerno would have let that pass. There is a slim chance Tony got away before they caught up to him, and maybe I should cling to that hope, but I promised myself I would stop being delusional when it came to this life.
My heart is heavy, and I’m doubting everything again. The thought that Tony might have died doing something to protect me slays me on the inside. What I wouldn’t give for one more day with him so I could tell him how much he meant to me. How much I value everything he did to protect me after Vegas. I owe him a debt I can never repay.
“I will have them moved to a hotel first thing in the morning,” Ben says, without hesitation, and that goes some way toward reassuring me.
But he is still in the doghouse. I’m not forgiving him that easily. “Thank you.”
“Firefly, I—”
“I’m tired, Ben. I don’t want to talk or fight anymore.”
“Fine,” he huffs, and the sheets rustle as he turns on his side, facing the other way.
I hate that we’re fighting, and that Anais is the cause of it, but he needs to realize he can’t keep lying to me.
Things are no less tense the following morning. My sleep was fitful, as was Ben’s, and he looks as miserable as I feel. I retreat to my studio to paint while he takes Rowan outside to the playground.
We meet, just before lunch, to interview the three shortlisted tutors. I discount the first two women immediately when I see how they are looking at Ben, stopping both interviews after five minutes when it is clear they are more interested in my fiancé than my son’s education.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the older gentleman with the salt-and-pepper hair takes a seat on the couch across from us. Mr. Spielberg is a distant relation of the famous movie director, and he has made a career out of tutoring kids on movie sets. He recently returned home to the area, and he has been looking for new work. He has glowing references, he is respectful and articulate, and he emits good vibes. I warm to him instantly, as does Ben, and Rowan seems to like him when we bring him in to say hi. He is gentle and patient with Rowan and appears to enjoy his exuberant personality.
After he is gone, Rowan comes with me to paint while Ben heads to his study to email the man an offer of employment.
Dinner is a tense affair, not that Rowan seems to notice. He practically carries the conversation. Ben insists on bathing him, and as I stand just outside Rowan’s bedroom door forty minutes later, listening to Ben reading Roald Dahl, I notice the strain cording his shoulders and the worry lines etched in his brow.
Stepping away, I walk to the living room to wait for him. I hate this, and I don’t want him returning to the city tomorrow with things so awful between us. We need to talk about it. To try to find a way to move forward that is acceptable to both of us.
I pour Ben a bourbon when I hear him quietly closing Rowan’s bedroom door, bringing my wine and his drink to the coffee table and setting them down. I sit on the couch, waiting until he shows his face.
“We need to talk,” we say in unison, and it helps to ease the stress, a little.
“I poured you a drink,” I say, holding it out to him.
“Thanks. I need it.” He takes a healthy mouthful before sinking on the couch beside me. He puts his glass on the table, and his thigh brushes against mine as he unfolds something in his hand. He smooths out the creases in the paper, spreading the faded drawing on his lap.
My heart jumps in my chest. “You still have it.”
“It’s one of my most precious gifts,” he admits, lacing his fingers in mine. I cling to his hand, savoring his warmth. “Like the woman who drew it.” His blue eyes find my green ones. “I’m sorry, Firefly. I know you are angry at me and you have every right to be. I hate hurting you. Hurting you hurts me too.”
“I appreciate and accept your apology, but how can I trust you if you continue lying to me, Ben?”
“Sweetheart.” He places the drawing on the table, taking both my hands in his as he swivels on the couch. I twist around so we are facing one another. “I want to be honest with you, but it’s not always going to be possible. I hear how shitty that sounds, but let me explain.” His eyes probe mine and I urge him to continue. “There will always be secrets in my world. Things I can’t tell you because to do so places you at risk. That is not an excuse to keep things from you. It’s the cold hard truth.” He squeezes my hand. “As my wife, you will be a target. My job is to keep you safe. Part of that means ensuring you are not exposed to information that could jeopardize your well-being.”
“I understand that, to a point, Ben. But there have to be exceptions. I have to know enough to be vigilant, and to be able to protect myself, and you can’t keep things from me that I need to know.” I peer deep into his eyes. “I needed to know Salerno was here. I needed to know about Anais.”
“I know, and I was wrong to keep it from you. At first, it was because I knew you wouldn’t come here if you knew the truth, and I had to protect you. I don’t think you understand the sheer terror I felt when you called me that day. My only concern was getting you and Rowan out of Chicago to safety.”
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just moved Anais and Salerno to a hotel before we arrived. You were able to do it within a few hours this morning.” I was delighted to see them being driven away just before lunch. Good riddance.
“The situation is extremely dangerous with the Russians right now. They have control of Vegas, and it was a bloody battle. Salerno was injured, defeated, and putting them in a hotel would have been too risky.”
“Yet you moved them to one now.”
“I did that for you.”
“Are you saying they are at risk?” I don’t like the man or his daughter, but I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths either.
“Yes, but my team is working around the clock to close the deal on their new property, and I put more of my soldiers on protection duty.”
“I feel bad now.”
He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ears. “Don’t. You are my priority. You and Rowan. And they will be okay for a couple of days.”
“Did you find out how Anais knew about me?”
His face hardens. “The little bitch followed us that night we walked in the woods. She eavesdropped on our conversation and put things together. Rather than confronting her father, she decided to try and chase you off.”