“You know that wouldn’t have worked, and we did you a favor. You didn’t really love him.”
I swallowed over the lump lodged in my throat. “Then what about Gian? Someone chased us in a car and shot at us. Someone threw a brick through Gian’s door. I know Alix is behind both of those things. Don’t try to deny it. All evidence to the contrary, I’m not gullible enough to believe those things were a coincidence.”
He scratched the side of his neck. “We did what we had to do. It’s the way things work in our world. Gian Trassato knows this. Hell, he’s done worse, and that’s exactly why I don’t want you anywhere near him. And trust me, he hasn’t let a day go by over the past week without fucking with us. You should be able to live your life untouched by all this shit. That’s what Dad, Mom, and I always wanted.” A hard edge of anger infused with frustration laced his words.
I stared at my shoes, lost in a daze. The people on the sidewalk wove around us. Horns honked. Music floated out of car windows. People laughed. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and a woman screamed insults into her phone. None of it seemed real.
Memories of Gian assaulted my mind. The way he smiled at me like I was the only person in the world. His taste. His golden eyes. His rough laugh. The way his face crumbled when I told him he wasn’t enough and that we’d never work. My head started to pound again, and my chest felt empty. So empty I might as well have been dead. I clenched my teeth together to suppress the sob on the tip of my tongue.
Over the last week, I had fallen into a deep darkness that only dancing had pulled me out of. When I danced, I temporarily managed to convince myself I would get through this and stop missing Gian. As soon as the music stopped, I’d get caught up in the messy trap of reminiscing, and I’d promptly dissolve into another weepy fit of tears. Thank God the musical I’d auditioned for today dripped with sadness and melancholy. It suited my mood perfectly.
“Then cut the ties. Let me live my life how I see fit and make my own decisions.”
“Maybe at one time that would’ve been possible, but not anymore,” he said so quietly, I strained to hear him.
I adjusted the strap of my bag. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now that your connection to us is no longer a secret, you’re a target. Without us, you could be killed or kidnapped for ransom by the end of the week.”
Bitterness rushed though me like lava, settling in the pit of my stomach. “Great. What am I supposed to do now? Walk around with giant crosshairs on my back?”
He stepped toward me, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He dangled a set of keys from his index finger. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Keys to your new apartment.”
I stared at the gold keys like they were a stick of dynamite. “No. I’m not taking anything from you.”
I’d checked into a hotel last week, promising myself I’d find a more permanent place to live as soon as possible because the money I got pawning the engagement ring from Kevin wouldn’t last for more than a couple of weeks with Manhattan prices. If I didn’t land a role in this play, I’d find a job and move out of the hotel.
“It’s temporary, and it will make my job a helluva lot easier. The building has a doorman and security. I wrote the address on the key chain.”
“Is this a consolation prize from dear ol’ Dad?” I raised my eyebrows, an indignant smirk on my face. “Whoops, sorry, long-lost daughter that I abandoned. I know I ruined your life and destroyed more than one of your relationships, but here’s a place to live. This should make up for it.”
“No. It’s actually my apartment. I’ll stay somewhere else until you get back on your feet.”
I inched backward. “No.” I didn’t want to be indebted to anyone ever again. I needed to stand on my own two feet.
“Just take them.” He shoved the keys into my pocket. “Think of it as my penance for lying to you.”
“Are you going stay there with me?”
He glanced to the side. “I’ll stay with Dad’s family.”
My stomach pitched. “He has another family?”
“A wife and two daughters. They’re a good ten years older than us.”
“So Mom was his mistress?” I asked, my mouth twisting with revulsion.
He shifted on his boot-clad feet. “Don’t feel bad for Mom. She knew the score.”
“His wife doesn’t care that he shoves his bastard son in her face?”
“He wanted a son, and she couldn’t have any more kids. They made a deal. He got his son, and she got to keep her life as long as she welcomed me into their house every summer. It worked out for everyone.”