puzzle together.”
“We? Who are you working with? Are you part of the Lugazzi family? Another family who wants to wipe out the competition?” I start to stand, but he stills me. Might as well since the bus is now driving through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel into Manhattan. I’m trapped times a thousand.
Jesse senses my trepidation about being in the tunnel. He grabs my hand, as he did the other night. His scars are still there from when he pulled the grates. His skin is raw, as are the memories.
The primal lust is mixed with this sense of gratitude I have for the way he acted as a human shield for me. My own father has disappeared while my family is in need. He climbed out a window when I was in trouble, and Jesse literally threw himself over me.
He is also keeping something from me. It’s dark, I can feel it.
You never know how much you hate secrets until they’re being kept from you.
Days ago, I thought the Mafia was a thing of New York’s past. I’m learning it’s very much alive in the present. What happened Friday night merely skimmed the surface of the lies I’ve been told my entire life. It might have been for my protection, yet it led me into harm’s way.
“What were you doing as a bartender at the club for the past year?” My question startles him. He doesn’t answer. “You’ve been spying on my father. My uncles. You’ve been trying to get enough dirt on them for who? For what?”
“Amelia,” he sighs.
At his lack of explanation, I shake my head. “You slime. You cowardly piece of shit.”
“It’s not like that.”
The light to the end of the tunnel appears, and we’re now in downtown Manhattan. I stand up and hit the stop button to get off.
“This isn’t your stop,” he says as I climb over him.
He’s right, but I can’t be near him any longer.
“I know you won’t get off with me at the risk of being seen, am I right?”
He rises. “Please don’t do this.”
“Too late.” I turn as the bus pulls up to the curb.
“Baby—”
“I’m not your baby,” I cut him off and walk briskly to the front and down the stairs.
On the curb, I wonder if I just made a colossal mistake by leaving his side. He’s staring out the window as the bus takes off, and I turn toward the subway stairs. His fist bangs on the glass.
I’ve never felt betrayed like this before. My life has been fairly easy until this point. I’ve never been distrusting—never had a reason to. Now, I can’t seem to sit on a subway car without looking at everyone as if they were a criminal.
I grip my bag to my chest, reeling at what my father has gotten us into. When I talk to him, it will be with a sharp-witted piece of my mind. I can’t be the meek Amelia anymore. I need to be fierce. He won’t know what hit him. Amelia Sorrentino—the bad girl, the rule disobeyer—will shock him.
A lot of things I’ve done lately will shock him.
With the drama, I’ve still managed to mentally relive my moment with Jesse. His mouth on mine and his fingers inside of me have tainted me for the good and the bad.
Anthony Buonno was a good date. Jesse Grant is a great lover, and I haven’t even gone to bed with him.
I get off the subway car at the stop that leaves me under my office building. I walk quickly up the stairs and to the turnstile at security. I open my purse to get my ID card and notice a small matchbook sitting against my wallet. It looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t remember taking it from anywhere.
I open it up. Only one match has been lit.
Lifting the flap, I read the writing on the inside.
The moment was real.
—Jesse
I bite my lip, and I run my thumb over his handwriting. He must have put this inside my bag while we were on the bus. The sneak.
I need to watch out. If I don’t protect myself, he might just steal my heart.
Then, I’ll be in real trouble.
Chapter Six
I sit at my desk at DeLuca & Associates, absentmindedly playing with the matchbook between my fingers.
“Did you hear me? Mr. DeLuca wants to speak with us,” Eric, one of my colleagues, says as he taps on his Apple Watch.
I drop the matchbook on my desk. Over the past few hours, I completed every task I was assigned,