He grimaces before saying, “I’ll live. I’m sure I look worse than I feel. I’m mainly just sore from all the puking.” He shudders. “I swear to Christ, I hope I never have anything even close to that happen again. I don’t know how people survive those stomach bugs that go around.” He shifts on his stool, then pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket and pushes it in front of me. “I talked to Dr. Atwell. Speaking of bugs, I had an herbicide in my system. Luckily not the worst kind. And thanks to a constant barrage of calls during my meal, I’d only eaten maybe half before it had gotten cold and I’d left it. Doc says that kept the symptoms mild. She said I’d probably have been all right without that damn charcoal stuff she forced down me since I had thrown up so much. Although it saved me from having my stomach pumped.”
I rub the side of my face as the realization that Marco was poisoned sinks in. Even though we all suspected it, I hadn’t wanted it to be true. Yeah, he got off lightly, but someone had been beyond brave to attempt a hit on a Moretti. “Fuck,” I hiss. “Does whoever the fuck is behind this not realize that they just made themselves look guilty?”
“This could be unrelated to our digging around,” Marco points out. “The family has plenty of enemies, and it could have been any of them. We don’t need to automatically assume that this is connected to Draco’s death. Plus, Doc said it was possible that the restaurant had been using the herbicide, and it had accidentally gotten into their water or food. Although, she did check and no other complaints have been made relating to illnesses at that restaurant.”
“I get what you’re saying, but my gut tells me this is linked. It feels like too big of a coincidence that someone outside the family would suddenly decide to take out a key Moretti. That is fucking suicide, and you know it.”
“I do,” he agrees quietly. “My next question is, how do we play this? Do I inform my father as I normally would in a situation like this? Or do we keep our mouths shut knowing it’s going to make us look like we are up to something to whoever is behind it? Hell, I’ve even wondered if that was the goal. Not to kill me, but to see if I’d break protocol afterward.”
“That’s a good point.” I sigh as I ponder our dilemma. “I could easily make an argument for either side. If we wanted to buy a little more time, then we probably need to report it. Make whoever it is keep guessing. Or we keep this on the down-low and smoke them out of hiding? It was pretty damn brazen, so they’re already spooked.”
“And when you’re scared, you get emotional, which means you get sloppy,” Marco says, spelling out what I’m thinking perfectly.
“Exactly. But that approach is by far the riskier of the two. We’ll have to be careful and watch our backs. I figure we back off nosing around for a few weeks to further confuse whoever is behind this, but we don’t report it to anyone in the family. They’ll either watch and wait for us to make a move, or they’ll attempt to push the issue again.”
“I’m firmly behind plan B, but we’ll need to run it by Nic and Mike and make sure they’re on board since they’re involved.” He nods his head toward the bedroom. “What about her? You brought her here, so she’s a direct link to you now. They could try to hurt you through her.” He gives me a look that clearly says he doesn’t understand my reason for having her here. Given how everyone is reacting to her, should I have left her alone? Surely, she doesn’t want this additional stress in her life.
“If you’ll recall the whole baby-daddy audition in my club, you’ll realize that she came to me. Yeah, I could have shown her the door that night and continued to watch her from afar. But if whoever is behind this shit got wind of that little show, then finding out she’s a Wrenn will put her firmly on their radar. I need her close until we know what we’re dealing with. And with you being poisoned, I’m more convinced than ever that I made the right decision. She’s too vulnerable.”
“There’s no way she’s going to hole up in your apartment until this shit is solved. She has a company to run. If you want to maintain some semblance of normalcy, then she needs to be at her office tomorrow just like she always is.”
“I’ve already thought about that. You know I’ve had someone watching her since that night. I figure I’ll give her the option of them accompanying her to work each day and staying inside Wrenn, or she works from here.”
Marco laughs, shaking his head. “You gonna tell her you’ve had her followed for a year? If I were you, I’d leave that little piece off. That’s enough to freak a woman out.”
I lift my bottle of water and tap it against his. “I’m no fool. They’ll be warned ahead of time to keep their mouth shut. That’s all I need is her getting pissed and taking off.”
Marco begins peeling the label from his bottle of water. He still looks pale but much better than the last time I saw him. Still looking down, he asks, “So, kind of a big surprise how I ended up near Nina’s place, right? Considering none of us knew she existed. She’s…feisty. She might be little, but she’s strong. She damn near carried me back to her apartment. Fuck, I think she even rubbed my back while I was puking. Who does that shit? What did you think of her?”
“It was pretty damn shocking,” I agree. “She was angry when we voiced our suspicions. Said she had nothing to do with the Gavinos now.”
He’s still acting almost sheepish, which is not like Marco at all.
Ah fuck, he likes her. Goddammit.
“What was your take on her? You’re good at reading people, Tony. Did you sense she was lying about the Gavinos? I had no idea who she was until you all started talking about it before we left. And I was so out of it that it only sunk in later when we were at the compound.”
“I don’t know, bro,” I answer truthfully. “There was nothing I could put my finger on, but I keep going back to the odds of her finding you. Fuck, you know how many people live in Asheville? About ninety thousand. So, how is it even possible that you were poisoned for the first time and then passed out near the home of Franklin Gavino’s stepdaughter? Fuck if I know what to think about it. My father always said there is no such thing as a coincidence. Especially one of that magnitude.”
His already pale skin appears almost translucent now, and I know he’s had enough for tonight. And he sure as hell isn’t driving himself home. Without asking him, I shoot a text to Nic and ask him to pick Marco up. When he gets here, I’ll also tell him that either he stays with Marco or Marco stays with him. What-the fuck-ever. Why does it suddenly feel as if I’m babysitting everyone? There’s Jacey, who wants to go home, and then Marco, who is mooning over a Gavino. Then there’s Nic and Mike, who I should have never involved in this shitshow. The dull ache in my temples is now a full-blown throb. I want nothing more than to go take a fucking nap and forget it all for a while. But Jacey will be waiting to pounce when Marco leaves. As much as I loved my father, this is one of the many times I wish I were born into a normal family. One where violence against myself and those I care about isn’t a strong possibility. Tomorrow I’ll push the mental weariness that threatens to consume me aside, and I’ll put a plan of action together. But tonight, I simply need to shut down and regroup. Jacey, of all people, will understand that.
* * *
JACEY
Tony has been so quiet since Marco left that it’s beginning to make me nervous. Like most women, I’ve read countless magazine articles about how men disconnect in times of stress. And this is certainly one of those times. But considering I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, I haven’t witnessed it firsthand. My father certainly had plenty of mood swings, but I don’t recall him going through this weird quiet one. That would have been a blessing. But even as irritated as I am with him over my house arrest, I’m still worried. He calmly walked into the bedroom about an hour ago and advised that one of his men would be with me at the office for my protection until he felt it no longer necessary. And that if I insisted on going home, someone would be there as well. I opened my mouth to let him have it, but he simply turned on his heel and went into the
bathroom. The shower started a few moments later. I paced the bedroom the entire time, livid at his high-handedness. Then he was back with a towel wrapped around his waist. Okay, I lost my train of thought for a moment. So hot. That mind freeze allowed him time to go into the closet and come out wearing a pair of low-slung basketball shorts. He’s killing me here. “I…um, Tony,” I croak out, before stopping to clear my throat.
He turns to stare in my direction, then lifts a hand when I open my mouth. “I’m done for the day, Jacey. You’re angry with me; believe me, I get it. Take a place in line behind everyone else who’d like a piece of me. I’m no good to any of you unless I have some space to process. To plot out the next moves because, believe me, a misstep at this juncture could be fatal to any or all of us.” I stare at him in surprise, not knowing what to say to this insight into his head. I have a feeling that few people have ever been privy to the inner workings of Tony Moretti. “I’m sorry that you’re unhappy with the arrangements I’ve put into place. I wish I could give you some alternatives, but I have none. Please believe that I wouldn’t be putting you through this unless I thought it absolutely necessary.”
From out of nowhere, a horrible thought occurs to me, and I cannot stop myself from giving voice to my suspicions even though I should wait. “You never intended to father my child, did you? Your capitulation was all an act. You needed a way to keep me close while you worked through this game of yours.” I put my hands on my hips, my voice reaching a near shout as I snap, “Did it ever occur to you that you were thrusting me into the spotlight with this farce? It’s been a year since my father died. If anyone wanted me, they’d probably have done it by now. Like you’ve already pointed out, Lee isn’t likely to get his boxers in a wad over my death. Hell, he might be offering a reward for all I know. It would certainly save him from having to humor his wife by looking at me across the dinner table at Christmas.”
I’m in a self-righteous rage when he pulls the rug out from under me. “Your baby-daddy audition in my club made this necessary. If you’re looking for somewhere to heap the blame, then start by dumping it at your own feet. If anyone had forgotten your existence, you made sure they got the reminder loud and clear. I realize you had no idea that your timing was extremely bad, but regardless, the damage is done.” I’m speechless when he finishes delivering my verbal slap down. He didn’t raise his voice, nor had there been any anger in it. He simply stated the facts as if he were discussing the weather. Cloudy with a chance of you fucked yourself over. I remain where I am, uncertain how to respond. An apology doesn’t seem quite right, nor do I think he expects one. “I’m going to sleep,” he says before moving away. He has already turned the covers back and is sitting on the side of the bed when he adds quietly, “And I wasn’t lying about the baby thing. When this is over, if you still want to have a child, then I’ll be the father. I asked Dr. Atwell to schedule full physicals for both of us along with STD tests, although I’ve had both recently as a part of my annual physical. I thought we could get the details out of the way now, then proceed when it’s safe to do so.” He turns off the lamp on his nightstand and lies down.
I decide to go about my own nightly routine while I mull over Tony’s revelations. When I came up with the insane scheme of taking applications for someone to father my child, I hadn’t stopped to consider the repercussions. Oh, I knew Tony would be pissed—in fact, I counted on it. But what I hadn’t considered was what the very public venue could mean. I put not only myself but him in danger as well. Granted, I hadn’t known what he was involved in, but still, I had inadvertently made myself a possible target to a murderer. And I took Tony along for the ride with me. By rights, he should have left me to fend for myself. Yet here I am at his apartment under his protection. And acting like a spoiled bitch. Even with all that, he’s still willing to give me what I asked him for. What I attempted to push him into.
I make a mess of everything I touch.
I lean my head against the cool tile in the shower and let the water cascade over me. I stay there so long that I resemble a prune when I finally get out. I dress in the same pajamas from the previous night and quickly brush my teeth. I have no idea how long I’ve been in the bathroom, but when I come out, I expect him to be asleep. But the light from my side of the bed shows his eyes still open as he stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t react at all to my presence, and I once again feel uncertain. I square my shoulders, and murmur, “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t think things through before I acted. If I had known—”
“Jacey, it’s fine. Please let it go. We’ll talk later.” Then with a note in his voice that clearly ends the discussion, he adds, “Good night.”
What now? I have no idea if I should get in the bed with him like last night or go elsewhere, and he gives me absolutely no indication of his preference. I’m pretty sure at that moment if my hair caught on fire, he’d point at the bathroom and tell me to handle it. To me, there is really no decision here. He has asked for time and me tossing and turning next to him is not going to give him that. Nor does he need for me to ask his approval for everything. So, I take the pillow from the other side of the bed and rummage in the closet until I find an extra blanket. He voices no objections when I walk out the bedroom door and shut it behind me. To say his behavior unsettles me is an understatement. In the short time I’ve spent in his company, I’ve witnessed many facets of the man. Playful, caring, serious, angry, and thoughtful are some that come to mind. But this somber mood isn’t one I expected. It’s not that he is scared or anxious. Rather, he’s off somewhere in his head where no one can reach him. I have little doubt that he’s making, then discarding plan after plan. Tony isn’t a man to leave very much to chance. And with Marco, Nic, Mike, and now my life possibly on the line, he’s going to be very careful in every move he makes.
I made this so much worse for him without realizing it.
Instead of taking the sofa, I curl up in a large, overstuffed chair and lay my head back against the cushion. With a sinking sensation in my stomach, I know that regardless of what happens in the days and weeks ahead, I’ll release him from his promise when this is over. If I want a child, then I can do as Jade suggested and go to a clinic. What good did I believe could come from basically blackmailing a man to be the father? Eventually, he’ll resent me for it, which is completely understandable. He’s under enough pressure trying to navigate the minefield that is the Moretti family. If my presence makes him more vulnerable, a child will make him that much more so.
Your selfishness clearly knows no bounds.
I cannot or will not stand in the way of someone else’s happiness. For Tony to be linked to me because having a child is selfish and wrong.
And really, what have I been thinking? Why do I believe I could be anyone’s mother? I’ve lived thirty-seven years of woeful and loveless ugliness. What do I know about love? About the true selflessness of being a mother? So desperate for love that I’d willingly subject a child to having a fucked-up woman like me as its parent?
God, I’m repulsive.
I’m not Jade. There’s no Lee Jacks to love me unconditionally. No incredible man who wants a family with me. Any man, including Tony, will run if they’re aware of the things I did for my father. No, when this is over, I’ll return to my life and only see Tony at family events as before. He never has to know the true Jacey, and I never have to endure the look of revulsion in his eyes if he did. I’ll go back to being the cold-hearted bitch everyone hates and expects nothing of. There’s safety in the familiar, and I’ve played that role for long enough that it’s almost effortless. No one knows that beneath the façade, I just want to belong—to be normal. But I can’t go back, nor can I move forward. Instead, I’ll remain in a state of suspended animation.
Alone, so alone.
As deserved.
8
Tony
Clint will accompany a very subdued Jacey to her office, so we both sit quietly at the bar sipping coffee as we await his arrival. Shutting do
wn the previous night had been inconvenient but necessary. Jacey has no idea of course, but it is how I process things. Some might call it an adult time-out, but it’s what I’ve done for as long as I can remember. It was effective and a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy. Oddly enough, my father had been the same way. Many times, I found him in his study lying on the leather sofa or simply sitting behind his desk with his feet propped on it. And he’d be staring off into space as if his body was there, but his mind was millions of miles away. He’d remain in that position for hours, and I learned from an early age that interacting with him when he was in that state of mind was useless. It wasn’t that he became angry; he simply ignored me.
I have no idea what time I finally drifted off to sleep, but I woke in the early hours by the dream again. The same one I’ve had on and off for years. Sometimes, months pass between occurrences, then other times, it happens several times a week. I have noticed a pattern, though. They occur more when I’m overly tired or stressed. Both of which I’m experiencing right now. I’ve had this dream for many years now. When Jacey passed out in my arms, I wasn’t so much shocked by what happened, but by the fact that I intimately knew her face. Before that moment, I never actually believed my dream girl existed in the flesh. I was much younger in the dream, and so was she. I fell in love with her as a boy, and as I got older, the feelings were still there, but it was more of a fondness as we were both frozen in time in my head. There was nothing unusual about the dream. We were swimming in the big pool at the compound. We joked and splashed each other before getting out and having some ice cream. I think we were about ten. The sunlight had glistened off her blond hair, almost creating a halo effect. Even then, she was a beauty. So carefree and full of life. But last night, the dream was different. The setting had been the same, but we were the age we are now. I swallow hard as I recall the next part. Jacey walked out of the pool, and when she turned to face me, her stomach was round with my child. I fought it, but the dream ended abruptly, and I woke with a longing in my soul I’ve never experienced before.