Let Me Love You

“Really? I mean, I knew you were friends, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”

She looked slightly panicky. Frantic even. Because deep down, she was pure and innocent. And as much as she wanted to be here, she would never be the type to light the match for me if I needed to burn down someone’s world. Not that I wanted that to change about her. No, she was the type who saved spiders and let them outside. She didn’t revenge kill or seek payback against her enemies. Not that she had any, thank God. She was the light that I desperately wished I could stay in, but as much as I tried, the darkness always seemed to find me.

I tossed my hands through my hair, deciding how much to share, when my mom appeared on the front porch just beneath the overhang.

“Hudson was in the navy like Constantine,” I began. “But then his mom got sick, so he left after his eighth year. He took care of her until she died a few months later, and then he decided to join the FBI. He went to Quantico. Landed a position at the New York field office, too.” I rattled off the facts as quickly as possible, and her eyes widened with every detail.

Yeah, fun fact, an FBI agent had been with us when we committed a crime.

“Is that how you knew so many details about her case? Well, what you thought were details, I guess.”

I shook my head. “Feds don’t usually get called in to murders unless they happen on federal land or are somehow connected to . . . well, FBI things.” I wasn’t too privy to the inner workings of the Bureau, and I didn’t care to know. The feds weren’t cool with people like me who took justice into their own hands. “So no, Hudson couldn’t help in that department. He just wanted justice for Bianca. And he believed the court trial was bullshit, too.”

“But he’s not in the FBI anymore, right? I mean, I don’t think an agent would own a bar.” She shrugged. “But what do I know?”

“No, he, uh, quit shortly after we killed that man. He was pretty messed up about it.”

“But you said you and your brothers were arrested. Not him?”

I looked back at the front porch, and my mom waved us over as Izzy appeared at her side. And God, she resembled Bianca more and more. It fucking hurt to look at her sometimes.

“No,” I said, clearing my throat, “he wasn’t identified as being part of it, and we sure as hell didn’t give up his name. Probably part of the reason he felt guilty and quit the Bureau.” I didn’t know all the details because he’d always been much closer to Constantine. “We should go in. They’re waiting.” And with that, I shut off the engine and grabbed our suitcases that I’d crammed behind our seats since sending those guards home.

Once outside, it dawned on me Maria was still hesitant to go in. She was a horrible liar, which was an admirable trait in my opinion, so she was clearly worried about how to answer any questions she knew would be waiting for her.

She spun around, knocking into me, and I let go of the bags to catch her forearms, forgetting we had eyes on us. “What story did you give them as to why I’m here?”

“I gave them the partial truth. I explained your ex has Chiara until Sunday, and it’s hard on you, so you asked if you could join me on my trip. I guess they don’t need to know that Thomas is a psycho and his plans changed, and you’re here just to be a stubborn pain in my ass now.”

“I detect no sarcasm where there should be at the end of that sentence, mister.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that, damn her.

“And if I’m a pain, then good. Maybe you deserve it.” Worry lines cut across her forehead as she asked, “You didn’t tell them that we’re . . . well, you know?” That innocent tilt of her head as she searched for the words had my heart beating harder yet again.

“That we’re friends, colleagues, neighbors?” I arched a brow. “My mom is old-school, sweetheart. If I tell her I’ve had my hand and mouth between your thighs, she’ll have a heart attack.”

She pulled her arm back and playfully whacked my chest, and I deserved that. But it was worth the smile on her lips and the fact she appeared to shed some of her nervousness.

Her eyes narrowed, and she surprised me by saying, “There you are.”

“Huh?”

“This you. This you is the one I know and love. The one Chiara adores. I can see you now. Lost you here and there since last night, but I . . .”

My world basically flipped off its fucking axis and I stopped hearing anything she’d said after love. She probably meant it as a friend kind of thing, but I didn’t care. It was the first time she’d tossed that word my way, and I’d latch on to it and save it for when I started to lose myself all over again and needed to find my way back to her.

But hell, she was right. Standing there with her on my parents’ driveway, the ground wet, gray skies and all, I could be whoever she needed me to be. And for a few seconds, I nearly considered letting the police handle Bianca’s case.

“Can you do me a favor?” I reached for her hand, forgetting our audience again, because maybe there was hope for me after all. Maybe she was right, and she had the power to ground me. Keep me from falling too far. Too dark.

“Anything,” she murmured.

“Remind me of who I am from time to time.” I squeezed her hand. “The man you see. The one you think I am, at least.”

Her eyes became slits, as if somehow my words nearly drew tears from her. “I’d happily remind you every hour of every day.”

“Are you two coming or what?” Izzy called out, breaking us from the moment, and she waved as if we didn’t see them waiting for us. And for whatever reason, they both seemed to sense it was better not to come to us.

“You ready?” I let go of her.

“I can do this,” Maria said under her breath.

“I got you,” I promised. “Always.”

“And here I thought I came to New York to have your back.” Only half her mouth smiled that time. An awkward but adorable one.

“Maybe it can go both ways?”

“Only a ‘maybe’?”

I grabbed our bags and tipped my head, motioning for her to walk. “I’m a work in progress,” I admitted. “I’m trying.” And I really was.

“Finally!” My mom tossed her hands in the air as we approached, and then she eagerly pulled Maria in and squeezed her.

I set down the bags inside the foyer. “Come here, you,” I said to Izzy and gave her a big bear hug, because it’d been too damn long since I saw my little sister. I swallowed. My only sister now.

Izzy squeezed me right back, holding on longer than I expected. I spied Maria doing her best to answer questions my mom was rapidly firing her way.

“Where’s everyone?” I asked, rescuing Maria from my mother’s inquisition. Giving one last squeeze, I released my sister, who immediately walked over to Maria and embraced her.

“The boys are in the study downstairs. Your father got tied up with something in the city. He promised he’d be home before dinner, though.” Mom grabbed hold of my forearm and pulled me tight to her side while patting my arm like I was five. “What’s up with the extra security Constantine hired? We expecting trouble?”

I knew my brother already gave her a reason why he had the extra security detail at the estate, but Mom was trying to entrap me. Ensuring Constantine had told her the truth. Knowing our history, I didn’t blame her.

I looked back and forth between her and Izzy, trying to remember what Constantine had told me over the phone. “Homeland Security,” I sputtered at the memory, finally jarring it loose from my brain. “DHS said there’s been an increase in threats against some of New York’s wealthiest families, and he’s overly cautious. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, Ma.”

Her brows slanted. Nope, she wasn’t buying our bullshit, but she wouldn’t want to worry Izzy, and with Maria in her presence, she wouldn’t press. “Well,” she said, eyes on Maria, “I’m putting you in Enzo’s old bedroom.”

“Maria and I are sharing a room, huh?” I pulled my arm free from Mom’s so she could swat me like I knew she was about to, and yup, right on the arm like my teacher used to do at Catholic school with the ruler. What could I say? I had a mouth on me back then.

“No, she’s a Romano, silly. She’s staying alone.” Mom dragged out her last word for extra emphasis. “You’re staying in the guest room with Alessandro.”

“Like hell I am,” I grumbled, feeling like a teenager again being back in this house.

“I put bunk beds in there, you know, in case anyone ever gives me grandkids one day.” For whatever reason, Mom’s Italian accent always became ten times thicker whenever talking about babies.

“Good luck with that, Ma.” Izzy suppressed a chuckle with the back of her hand, and Mom elbowed her in the side.

“Well, there will certainly be no baby making happening while we’re all in this house the next few days, which is why Pablo, whenever he gets here, is staying out in the pool house,” Mom went on, pointing a finger Izzy’s way while closing an eye.

“Pablo?” I held up a hand, shooting my sister a confused look. “Like, as in Picasso?” I couldn’t help but tease.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. Alessandro has already spent an hour giving me hell, and Constantine’s been abnormally silent, even for him, which speaks volumes. So not you, too.” She looked at Maria as if she’d assist her in the boyfriend department. “He is an artist, though.”

“Oh, fuck me. This is too good.” I slapped a hand to my chest, not realizing how much I needed the comic relief with so much shit going on.

“Watch your mouth. I’ll still wash it out with soap,” Mom warned, holding her finger in front of my face, brows stitched together, but there was humor in her eyes and a tremble of laughter she fought back.

“Yeah,” Izzy said, eyes on Maria. “She totally did that. And God help us if we took the Lord’s name in vain as kids.”

Mom snatched Maria’s bag from the floor. “Why don’t I show you to your room now. Give you a chance to freshen up. Although, I have to say, you look rosy and quite fresh already.”

I snuck a look at Maria, my tongue peeking between my lips at why this woman was probably so “fresh.” My tongue and the orgasm I gave her.

Maria blushed, reading my thoughts, then gave my mom her attention. “Thank you again for having me. I needed to get away, and I guess Enzo did, too.” Ah, her voice faltered there a bit, and her “I guess” had Mom peering at me.

I surrendered my palms in the air, doing my best to give her my puppy dog eyes, since I was her youngest son and Alessandro claimed she always had a soft spot for me.

“And you’re just friends?” Mom asked, eyes sharp on me as she attempted to channel my thoughts.

I wished more than anything we were in New York for any other reason than we were, but facts were facts.

“Of course,” I lied before Maria could, because I was much better at it than she was.

Mom had her back to Maria as she mouthed, “Romano,” to me, as if I needed the reminder that my parents made some sort of “protection” and “no breaking hearts” deal with Maria’s parents that included none of us Costas going near Maria or Natalia.

“Oh, one more thing you should know before I walk Maria to her room,” Mom said, her eyes narrowing on me as if she were about to level me with something heavy. “I finally redid Bianca’s bedroom. I turned it into a library. Wall-to-wall books. The french doors open to the water. She’d love it.” She half smiled. “They’re all of her books, too.”

Maria’s hand went to her heart, and her eyes fell to the marble floors beneath us. Yeah, I was on the same agonizing page.

And for some reason, I only just now realized Izzy was wearing a shirt Bianca would’ve loved that said: BOOKMARKS ARE FOR QUITTERS in glittery metallic lettering. Izzy lowered her gaze to her shirt and, based on the hint of red on her bronzed cheeks, I had to wonder if it’d been Bianca’s top. It looked like it’d been washed a hundred times already. But given my sister’s ripped high-waisted jeans, hair in a messy bun, and unlaced Doc Martens, maybe “messy” was trendy? Hell if I knew what was in style.

“Well, how about we go to your room now,” Mom suggested to Maria, as if realizing Izzy and I needed a second to catch up alone. “Shall we?”

Unsure how to process pretty much anything, I gave Maria a stupid wave before shoving my hands into my slacks’ pockets.

“How long have you two been sleeping together?” Izzy asked once it was just us, and she folded her arms and scrutinized me with a hard look. “She’s too young for you.”

I frowned. “We’re not.” Not technically. “And she’s not that much younger than you.”

“But eight years younger than you,” she reminded me before fake-zipping her lips and tossing the key into the metaphorical water. “I should shut my mouth, since Pablo is a decade older.”

“A decade?” I scoffed.

“Mm-hmm.” She nudged my suitcase with the tip of her boot. “You failed my test, you hypocrite. He’s only three years older. But what he lacks in age difference he more than makes up for in the bedroom.”

Payback was a bitch. “Yeah, I don’t need that mental image. Because Pablo will have his ears removed if I think—”

“That was Van Gogh. He’s the one who cut off his ear,” she interrupted as I grabbed my suitcase.

“Yeah, okay, well, I’ll chop something else off, then.” I winked, and she nudged me in the side as we started down the long hall toward the guest room, which happened to be on the other side of the house from my old bedroom. Well played, Mom. But my room had a balcony overlooking the water, which meant I could easily access the room at night.

“Sure, sure. I’d say your bark is bigger than your bite, but I know you. And both are equally scary.” She elbowed me again. “Jeez, you’re still made of rock.”

“I was going to say you must be hitting the gym yourself at how hard you poked me,” I joked, faking arm pain with a dramatic moan.

We stopped outside the guest room, and I saw Alessandro had already claimed the bottom bunk with his bag.

“Why can’t Constantine share with him?” I grunted like I was that teenage boy again. But at least that me was still innocent. Had yet to take a life.

“Constantine share?” She snorted. “Sure.” With her arms folded now, she set her back to the hall wall outside the bedroom.

“And where is your artist who isn’t Van Gogh? Why didn’t he come with you?”

“He had to wrap up a project at his studio first. He has an exhibit next week, so it’s a big deal he’s even coming here for a few days.” She checked her watch. “Should be here any minute, though.”

“Wow. I really look forward to meeting him,” I dryly said, rolling my eyes. “But if you’re introducing him to the family, it must be serious.”

She held up her ring finger, and thank God, there was no ring. “He’s planning to ask you all for my hand in marriage. I figured if we’re all here, it made sense to do.”

“What?”

She followed me into the room. “He proposed already, and I helped him stand back up and kindly told him to try again after he talks to you guys and Dad. Because you know—”

“He’d lose a limb if not?” I smiled, but fuck, it wasn’t funny. I didn’t want her marrying some guy I’d never met and already had a bad feeling about.

“So.” She pointed at my suitcase as if the answers were there. If only. “Why are you really here? You don’t think any of us are buying the Homeland Security BS, do you?” she asked as I peered at the couch opposite the bunk beds. It was loaded with stuffed animals for the grandbabies Mom hoped to have one day.

Shit. “We’ll tell you tonight. I promise.” I dropped my bag and flipped open the blinds, catching only a partial view of the water from this side of the house.

“It’s not good, is it?”

I let go of the wooden blinds and slowly faced her.

“Tell me now. Don’t make me wait. Hell, clearly Hudson knows what’s going on or he wouldn’t be here.” Izzy was leaning into the interior frame of the door now, her humor and happiness absent from her face. All hard, sad lines now. “Please.”

I gathered in a deep breath and scratched my jawline, contemplating what to do. Before I could decide whether to confess the truth, my phone began vibrating in my pocket.

It was my mother’s cousin. “One second. I need to answer this message,” I told her.

Giovanni: I have the name. I’d rather share it in person. Offer my apologies to your family face-to-face. I heard you were back in New York.

The fact that news had traveled fast that I was in town didn’t shock me. There were always eyes on me when I was here.

Me: You need my parents’ blessing for an impromptu visit. Call them. And just give me the name now.

“What is it?” Izzy asked, coming closer, and I looked up to see her worried expression.

“Just Maria’s ex causing problems,” I said once reading the information he’d texted. As I’d suspected, he provided Thomas’s name.

Giovanni: Are we good now?

Me: Did you shut down their side operation?

Giovanni: They work for Nico since he’s slowly taking over for me. I already spoke with him. He’d like to come to your home as well. Apologize in person.

I didn’t know Nico that well, which only meant the man hadn’t done anything to piss my brothers and me off yet.

Giovanni’s wife had only given him a daughter, and he’d always wanted a son to take over for him. From what I knew, he’d arranged for his daughter to marry a Sicilian when she was barely even out of high school. And Giovanni had been grooming Nico for twenty years to become the head of the family “business.”

When I didn’t answer, Giovanni texted again.

Giovanni: If your family agrees, we’ll all come tomorrow. Make amends.

I didn’t bother to respond, too damn angry. I shoved my phone back in my pocket, still unsure how to handle the Thomas situation. But I’d need to shelve that problem for later. I had to catch Bianca’s killer first.

I fixed my attention on Izzy, wishing it’d been Jesse who’d texted instead. No messages or voice mails from him while I’d been out of contact, since my phone had gone for a swim.

“Who was that?” Izzy asked, but then I was saved by the bell. Well, the doorbell. “That must be Pablo.” She nervously slapped her hands to the sides of her legs as if trying to discard sweat from her palms.

I set my hand to her back and motioned for her to walk. She remained quiet as we made our way back to the foyer, but Alessandro beat us to the door. He was busy talking to Izzy’s boyfriend, so he didn’t notice we were there yet.

“Your last name, what is it?” Alessandro had his hands in his gray slacks’ pockets, eyes steady on his target.

Pablo-not-Picasso had his blond hair up in a man bun, and he had ripped jeans like my sister’s but with paint on them and a tattered tee with . . . flip-fucking-flops.

Were we being Punk’d?

“Why do you need to know?” Pablo asked, eyes moving to Izzy as if searching for a save, and she quickly went to his side and hooked an arm around his back to protect him from the scrutiny of my brother. Good luck with that. I was next in line, too.

“I need a name to run a background check,” Alessandro plainly said. “I can snap your photo and upload that, but that’s a time suck.”

“He’s funny.” Pablo pointed to him before his eyes landed on me, and he took an uncomfortable step back.

What, did I look threatening? Good.

Alessandro faced me, and his expression changed from menacing to warm. “Hey.” He pulled me in for a one-arm hug, patted my back twice; then we both became laser-focused on the man I sure as hell didn’t like.

“He doesn’t have a last name.” Izzy spoke for her boyfriend that time. “He changed it to just Pablo.”

“Like Cher. Prince. Madonna. Elvis.” Pablo smiled. “Just Pablo.”

“Well, Just Pablo,” my brother drawled. “Elvis had a last name. Presley. God help you if you don’t know that.” He tsked and raked a hand through his brown hair.

Izzy leaned into her boyfriend, setting a palm to his chest, and lightly patted. “He’s teasing. Don’t worry.”

“But I’m not actually,” Alessandro said, using his flat tone of voice again, not laying on any of his typical charm.

I looked up to see Constantine on approach, and the grim look on my brother’s face meant he knew I didn’t have the cleaner’s name yet. “We need to talk. Alone.” Constantine’s gaze flicked to Pablo, and he looked away as if the man were but a shadow there and nothing to worry about. Hell, not even a hello. He angled his head down the hall where he’d come from, a request to follow.

“I’m sorry they’re being so rude,” Izzy apologized. “But that’s Enzo. The comedian with the questions is Alessandro.” She let go of Pablo to block my path to try and stop me from following Constantine’s request to leave. “My eldest brother with clearly no manners is Constantine.”

“Nice to meet you all?” Pablo said it like a question.

“I guess if Mom isn’t running here to see him, she’s already met Pablo-not-Picasso?” I asked. “And she didn’t tell us for obvious reasons.”

Pablo frowned. “He knows I can hear him, right?”

“Yeah, you still have both your ears.” Alessandro chuckled.

“That was Van Gogh,” Izzy said with frustration. “I swear, you two.”

But come on, she had to know we wouldn’t like the guy, and how could we?

“I guess I’ll take you to the pool house.” Izzy scowled at me, then rolled her eyes at Alessandro before snatching Pablo’s hand.

Pablo grabbed his bag, and the two of them went down the other hall, avoiding Constantine.

“I don’t like him,” Alessandro said once the three of us were alone. “Pretty sure Constantine will kill him before night falls.”

“That’s being generous,” Constantine rasped before turning away.

Before I had a chance to follow him, Mom called out my name, and I pivoted to see her approaching. “Maria seems nervous. Maybe you should go talk to her?” She came before me and opened her palms. “I was hoping Izzy and Maria would cook dinner with me tonight. I’d ask you, but you need a break, I’m sure.”

I wouldn’t mind cooking. It was an outlet, my way to destress. Using my hands for something that brought pleasure instead of pain.

But tonight wouldn’t be the night, not with why I was there.

I looked at Alessandro and Constantine waiting for me and then back toward the hall where my old room was, and why did it feel like I was being asked to make a choice right now? Justice or love?