Shameless - Sybil Bartel Page 0,80

me.

I was still waiting when the valet held her door open.

I was still fucking waiting when she got behind the wheel.

Then I was watching taillights.

Goddamn motherfucker.

I CRIED THE WHOLE WAY home.

Then I cried in the penthouse, but I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to feel these stupid feelings, and I didn’t want a stupid, stupid bodyguard to be so stupidly handsome in a tux. I hated him.

I loved him.

I didn’t know what the hell I wanted, but I knew one thing.

He’d been right.

Leo Amherst didn’t give a shit about me.

I was always the junkie groupie’s daughter. Leo Amherst had never treated his own wife decently, I didn’t know why I ever expected him to treat me any better, but I did. And I’d held on to that hope. I’d been holding on to it my whole life, except now I needed to let it go.

Tears spilling down my face, I called him.

Shockingly, he answered. On the fifth ring.

Out of breath, his nasally voice came over the line. “Summer. What are you doing? I thought you were at that thing with Fallon and the charity.”

Irritation simmered. “That thing was a fund raiser for Children’s Hospital.” And Fallon had done it all herself. She’d created the whole charity on her own and kept it afloat for almost as long as I’d been alive. It wasn’t just a thing.

It was honorable work.

“You know what I mean,” he chided me like he always did. “What’s up? Why are you calling?”

Had he always been this much of an asshole? “I just thought you should know I’m out of rehab.” And he’d never called me.

“Good, good. Keep it clean. Stay fit.”

He rushed through his little bullshit speech and every word he spoke made me realize what I never wanted to acknowledge.

Leo Amherst didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.

“Some mafia guy wanted me to introduce him to you tonight.”

Leo let out a small laugh, but it was one hundred percent condescending. “Little hard to make introductions when I’m not there, princess.”

Princess?

Bile rose and I wanted to vomit at the pet name he hadn’t called me since I was ten. “Did you hear who I said he was?”

“No. What’s his name?”

He didn’t even give a shit that I said mafia. If meeting someone netted him money, he didn’t care what they did.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Leo Amherst was Massimo Vincenzo.

They were exactly alike.

What a fool I’d been.

“His name’s Massimo Vincenzo. You’ll love him. He’s just like you.”

“Good, good. Give him my number.” A woman giggled in the background and Leo grunted. “I’m ah, in the middle of something. Anything else, sweetheart?”

Yeah. Fuck off, Dad.

“No. I’ll make sure he gets your number.”

“Okay, thanks, sweethea—”

I hung up.

Then I dialed André’s cell.

He picked up on the first ring. “Luna.”

“It’s Summer. Are you still at the event?”

“Yes.”

“Are you near Massimo Vincenzo?”

“Yes.”

“Give him your phone, please.”

“Copy. Hold.”

There was a slight pause and I heard people talking, then Massimo came on the line.

“Signorina, what a lovely surprise. I’m sorry our dinner was interrupted.”

I wasn’t. “Do you still want Leo’s number?”

“If he will take my call.”

I knew what he was saying. Leo better take his call if I wanted out from under Massimo. “He will,” I promised. Then I rattled off my father’s private cell phone number. “This makes us even.”

“Yes, it does. Buona sera, signorina.”

“Good night.”

I hung up on Massimo and my past. Then I made another call.

It was answered on the second ring. Then Ronan’s quiet voice filled the line. “He didn’t come back inside.”

“I figured.” Shade wasn’t a man who would willingly spend time at an event like my stepmother was hosting tonight, and I was okay with that.

Ronan recited an address.

I couldn’t help it, I smiled. “I don’t know if I should be upset I’m that transparent or worried you’re that intuitive.”

“Neither.”

Of course Ronan would answer like that. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied in the same quiet, even tone he always used.

“One day some woman is going to be lucky to get under that quiet demeanor of yours.”

No laugh or smirk or acknowledgement of any kind, Ronan ignored my comment. “Take care of yourself.”

An emotional mess, my eyes welled, but I smiled because I honestly felt stronger than I ever had. “Thank you. Not for the words, but for the sentiment.” Because I honestly felt like he meant them.

“Good night, Summer.”

“Good night, Ronan.”

He hung up and I grabbed my keys.

YANKING MY JACKET OFF, I strode into my apartment and aimed for the whiskey.

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