I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I never should’ve touched her. I should’ve stayed away.”
“Yes, you probably should have. But you shouldn’t have run away from New York in the first place. That was a shitty thing to do, Joseph.”
“I know.” I was surprised he hadn’t punched me for that transgression. I’d left without a word and covered my tracks. I could’ve been dead, for all Marco knew. I’d left my closest friend in the world hanging on to hope that I’d somehow survived the war brewing within our family. When all along, I’d been playing the part of humble bartender while I pretended Ashlyn’s safe, simple life could be mine, too.
I’d been a complete fucking idiot, deluding myself into thinking that was a remote possibility. I’d never be free from my violent world.
“I’ll never deserve her,” I said, not realizing I spoke the words aloud.
“Stop that shit right now,” Marco commanded. “I’m done with this lovesick drama. You’re not living in a fucking fairytale, Joseph. There are no white knights and evil villains. You don’t have to be one or the other. This is the real world. It’s ugly and complicated, and it’s time you faced that reality and stopped trying to run away or deny it. You’re a hard man in a hard world. Start acting like it.”
“You mean like you act?” I shot back. “Drugging innocent women and stealing them in the night before scaring them into cooperating? I don’t want to be that kind of man, Marco. You know me better than that.”
He barely flinched as I flung the accusations at him, but that was enough to let me know I’d cut him deeply.
“And I guess you know me so well, then, if that’s what you think of me.”
I held my glare for a few seconds, but I dropped my aggression on a sigh. “Sorry, Marco. That was shitty of me. I know you’re not a bad person. I know you did what you had to do to keep Ashlyn safe. I just can’t stand seeing her cry. It’s fucking me up. She hates me now. She wouldn’t even look at me.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, a comforting gesture. My cruelty was easily forgiven.
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just upset. I saw the way she looked at you. Believe me, she’s not capable of hating you. Give her some time, and she’ll come around. She just needs some space to process everything and accept the situation. She must be a smart girl; she goes to Harvard. It won’t take her long to figure out that we really are trying to protect her, not hurt her.”
All I could do was hope he was right about that. The thought of Ashlyn flinching away from my touch was enough to sour my stomach. It’d felt fundamentally wrong for her to shy away from my hand, to be frightened of me. I’d do everything in my power to fix this. But for now, Marco was right. She needed space and a little time to rest and process her situation.
“I should go see my father,” I said. “He needs to know that Ashlyn is here.” I didn’t want to hide anything from Dad. Even though I’d tried to run away, he still loved me. He’d help me protect Ashlyn if I told him how important she was to me.
“Yes, you should,” Marco agreed. “And it’ll give Ashlyn some breathing room if you’re gone. Don’t worry,” he added before I could voice my concerns. “I won’t scare her again. I don’t like seeing her cry, either.”
I nodded. Marco might terrify most people, but I knew him better than that. He was a good man, and he’d never hurt a woman, especially one as innocent and delicate as Ashlyn.
“Did you get her to write the messages?” he prompted.
“Yeah. But I left the notepad in the bedroom. Maybe wait a while before you go get it. You’re right about her needing space.”
“Okay, but not too long. We need to send those emails before anyone gets concerned. Her roommate has already texted her phone to check on her. I couldn’t unlock the damn thing to answer. We’ll need to get her passcode. Did you get her username and password for her email account?”
My lips curved as I recalled the information. Her name was as beautiful as she was, and her password was adorable. “Login is Abmeyers. Her password is Number1unicorn!”
The corners of Marco’s mouth twitched. Coming from him, that was like a delighted laugh. “Cute,” he commented.
Ashlyn’s bedroom in her apartment at Harvard had been decorated in pastel colors, something between adult sophistication and childish whimsy. I’d known she possessed a girly streak, but the fact that her password was about a magical creature only made her that much more enchanting. Her innocence was something I treasured, something pure that I didn’t possess. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to possess her.
“I should get going,” I said. “I’m supposed to have dinner with my dad at the restaurant, anyway. I’ll fill him in on the threat to Ashlyn.” My levity melted at the thought of her being threatened. “Maybe he’ll agree that it’s finally time to make a move against these fuckers.”
So far, we’d mostly been engaging in something like a Cold War with my father’s rivals. There were moves and countermoves, veiled threats and insults. But outright violence had yet to break out.
“I don’t think you should do that,” Marco warned. “You can tell him she’s here, but don’t tell him she’s being threatened. Things will get bloody fast, and that could put her in more danger. They were watching her in Cambridge, but if we make a move against them now, they’ll know that she’s the cause. It’ll put a target on her back. They’ll know she’s our weak spot.”
My stomach turned. “Right,” I agreed. “I’ll keep this between us, but I’ll tell Dad that Ashlyn is taking time off from school to stay here with me.”
My father wouldn’t think it odd that my girlfriend was staying with me at Marco’s house. I’d spent enough time here in my life that it wasn’t at all out of the ordinary.
“I’ll see you later tonight. Take care of her while I’m gone.”
“I won’t keep the pretty princess locked up alone in her tower, don’t worry.”
I rolled my eyes at him. I was getting tired of the fairytale jibes.
“I’ll make dinner for her,” he amended when he could tell I wasn’t amused. “And I promise I won’t scare her again.”
“Thank you.” Marco really was good to me, even better than a brother. I knew he’d keep Ashlyn safe and as happy as possible in my absence.
My gut tightened with anxiety when I stepped into the back room at Pisolino—my family’s restaurant in Manhattan. I’d come to see my father, but Gabriel Costa’s deep brown eyes fixed on me, his mouth curving in a cold smile that tugged at the deep scar on his upper lip.
Apparently, even enemies could come together over bucatini all’Amatriciana.
The room was thick with tension. Marco’s father, Leo De Luca, sat to Dad’s right, as always. And Gabriel, the upstart capo who dared to challenge my father, sat at the opposite end of the table.
Dad had been named by Victor Lombardi as his chosen successor, but Gabriel wanted to be the boss, once the old man passed.
“Joseph.” My father’s voice lacked the usual warmth he showed me. “Come sit with us. We’ll get you a plate.”