Elect(82)

“Did Phoenix have any brothers?” Sergio asked.

“No.” I chuckled and looked at Chase. “But he has a hell of a stepsister.”

“A woman?” a man asked.

“It has been done before,” another answered. “Is not the most peaceful city in Sicily run by a woman?”

“True.” Luca seemed to think on it. “Shall I bring it up to the family?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Bring it up?” I nodded. “Seems to me your way of bringing things up includes threats with death and Lake Michigan.”

Luca shrugged. “I cannot help that I am one for dramatics.”

Frank rolled his eyes in my direction.

“Fine.” I nodded. “Notify the family and Emiliana. I want it to be done before you leave, Luca, and the funeral, too.”

“Done,” he said. “Now, let us make a toast.”

Each man raised their drinks.

“A toast,” Luca said, “to family.”

“Familia!” Everyone cheered and drank.





Chapter Fifty-three


Chase


Things were set to rights. I knew Nixon was probably thinking in the back of his mind that I’d handed the job back to him so I could have Trace—he couldn’t be more wrong. I gave him the title because I knew I didn’t have what it took to pull it off. Nixon was a badass, he was… ridiculously loyal and selfless. In the end I knew that I would choose me over someone else.

And that’s why I didn’t deserve Trace.

Because in the end, I chose myself—not her. Had I chosen her, I wouldn’t have put her in the position I did.

In the end, I was selfish in my pursuit of her. I loved her… and maybe that was the problem. My love for her overshadowed everything else. I would have run away with her without looking back.

The men dispersed.

I sat at the table twirling a glass between my hands.

All the lights were off.

It was just me and a vintage bottle of whiskey.

Good lord, I was depressing.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and looked up. Trace was standing over me, her eyes sad. I couldn’t look at her. I had to look away; my breath hitched as her hand slid down my arm and then touched my hand. I gripped it, I held on for dear life.

“Chase I—”

I closed my eyes and just listened to her voice. “Say my name again… please.”

“Chase.” She choked a bit. “Chase, Chase, Chase…” She released my hand and grabbed my face between her palms. “Chase.”

I opened my eyes and looked directly into hers, holding her with my gaze, begging her with my soul… Me, choose me. Because I need you. More than I want to admit.

Her mouth met mine in a gentle kiss. For a brief moment, I was relieved, I thought maybe she was choosing me, maybe it was just going to be us, maybe there was a happy ending and we’d ride out into the sunset. But she pulled back too soon. I leaned forward, our foreheads touched.

She spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear her. “I’m so mad at you.”

“I know.” I sighed.

“You lied to me, Chase. You made me…” Her eyes closed. “You made me choose. I relied on you for everything. You were my survival and you betrayed me, you betrayed what we were, what we had.”

Nodding, I tried to pull away from her but she wouldn’t let me. Her hands were like a vise grip on my head.

“You made me love you—made me rely on you… Because of you, I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole for him. I don’t know if I can be that girl that he first loved. And I want to hate you for it, except you’ve made me love you so damn much that it hurts.”

“Trace I—”

Her lips silenced me, again, a brief kiss, a brief velvet touch of her lower lip and then she pulled back again. “I do love you… but…”

“But?” I knew it was coming. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I broke out into a cold sweat.

“Chase.” She pulled away and wiped a tear from her eye. “You have my heart, but Nixon… he owns my soul.”

I shuddered; it felt as if she had just grabbed a knife and rather than stab me in the back, told me that she was going to cut me deep through the chest. In the end I would have preferred the sneak attack, because maybe then I wouldn’t have to watch those gorgeous brown eyes well up with tears as I nodded and felt my chest constrict until I thought my body was going to explode under the pressure.

The cold knife went straight for my heart—it pierced the muscle, ceasing it from beating, but didn’t end there. Had she been merely rejecting me, the pain would have stopped, but she wasn’t just rejecting me, she was disappointed in me, and still choosing another. So the knife twisted; it twisted until I went numb and then… I closed my eyes as I savored the feeling of everything in my world stopping.