For Angelo(78)

There were several scenarios for this, but none of it was something Angelo was willing to contemplate.

No jumping to any fucking conclusions, Valencia.

He took a deep breath and entered the living room.

Lane was seated alone on a couch, and across her was a couple in their mid-thirties while a much older man stood by the windows, turning to face the room as soon as Angelo opened the door.

“Signor Valencia,” the older man said stiffly. “I hope you pardon us for the intrusion.” The Midwestern drawl in his voice was unmistakable, as well as the aloofness of his expression.

All faces were properly expressionless, and if Angelo had been a little less smart than he was, he could have been fooled by it.

But he wasn’t.

The tension in the room told him plenty enough, but it was Lane’s pale face that yielded everything.

He looked at her, only her, because whatever the world thought, she was his greatest concern, his greatest treasure.

“Are you alright, tesoro?”

Lane nodded vehemently. “Yes.” Her eyes told him not to worry, and his lips twisted. Even now, even when their whole life was about to crumble around them, her masochistic little heart was only worried about him.

He saw her gaze dart to the old man, and Angelo immediately said, “I’m certain you are all aware of my identity, but nonetheless courtesy dictates that I introduce myself.” Striding forward, he introduced himself first to the other woman in the room.

She took his hand and as she shook it, she said quietly, “You have beautiful manners, Mr. Valencia.”

“I’m flattered that you think so.” His voice was noncommittal. He didn’t believe for one minute the woman meant a word of it.

And he was right.

Releasing his hand, Nellie said, “I only wish you showed the same courtesy to Lane.”

Ah.

“Nellie, please.” Unable to help it, Lane rose to her feet and went to Angelo’s side.

“It’s alright, tesoro.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it without taking his gaze off the other woman. “Your mother isn’t saying anything untrue.”

“Amazing.” Nellie laughed, the sound brittle. “I did hear you were devastatingly well-mannered, but I thought it was pure exaggeration. I guess I stand corrected.” Her tone turned cold. “But I also mean what I said. It would be better if you had been as courteous with Lane. It would have been better if you stood by her instead of your ex-girlfriend—”

“Nellie, we already discussed this—”

“No!”

Lane’s voice trailed off at Nellie’s furious cry.

A muscle started ticking in Angelo’s jaw. “Mrs. Christopoulos was collateral damage, and I owed her a personal apology. I wanted her and her husband to know that I would do everything I could to minimize the harm—”

“And what about Lane?” Nellie demanded. “What about the harm done to her because she was foolish enough to get involved with someone like you?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t force her—”

“Why would you need to? You’re rich and handsome. You have a way with words. Lane’s a smart girl, but she’s also inexperienced and she didn’t stand a chance—”

“Don’t make it seem like he seduced me,” Lane cried out, “because he didn’t. I chose to love him, and I’m proud to love—”

“Then you are a fool,” Nellie screamed. Ray tried to calm her down, but she shook her husband’s arms away. “He’s a man who likes to hurt women! He’s twisted, Lane! How can you like someone like him? How can you even think you love someone like him?” Guilt was an agonizingly heavy burden on her shoulders as she recalled the way she had laughingly encouraged Lane to go after the man she wanted. But God, how could she have known Lane would fall for someone like Angelo Valencia?

The anguish on the older woman’s face was unbearable, and Lane choked out, “Because I love him, Nellie. Because I’m as twisted as he is—”

Nellie moaned.

“I know it doesn’t sound right, b-but I like what he’s doing—”

“Goddammit, Lane,” Norman cut her off harshly. “Can you hear yourself, child? Do you actually understand what you’re saying?” He turned furiously at the Italian, spitting, “I hope you’re happy. You’ve managed to defile someone innocent—”

“It’s not like that!”

“Do you know what she’s gone through?” Norman shouted. “Because if you do, then you’re the coldest son of a bitch, to still want to hurt someone like her—”

“Stop making it seem like it’s his fault,” Lane begged.