Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

It had been two days since the Rossis brought home a bloodied Al Scavo. Two days since the Blind Don checked up on us to make sure we were upholding our end of the bargain consummating the marriage—which was creepy as hell. Two days before I finally had a decent night of sleep in Sandro’s bed. And the reason I slept peacefully was because my husband didn’t come home last night.

The glaring light of the morning jolted me awake. My arm shot across the bed to Sandro’s unslept side and I sat up quickly in a slight panic. Did something happen? Sticks would have awakened me, right?

I jumped out of bed, threw water on my face, and gargled mouthwash. I didn’t even bother with my hair. There was a chill in the air, but it might have been the goose bumps of alarm climbing up my spine. I was in flannel pajamas and the print made it difficult to discern my nipples, but I threw on a thick terry robe, anyway. I exited Sandro’s room and made my way to the stairs.

The smell of coffee hit my nose first, and I listened briefly for voices. When I heard none, I slowly descended the steps. This whole scenario reminded me of my first morning here.

An arrangement of sunflowers in a rectangular vase sat on a console table in the big foyer. Their merry faces chased away a quarter of the anxiety inside me. Gaze transfixed, I cleared the bottom steps and walked toward them. A bubble of joy suffused my chest.

“Do you like them?”

I spun around to see Sandro leaning against the wall, arms crossed. As usual, he was in black. Exhaustion lined his features, but his eyes were as penetrating as ever. It looked like he hadn’t slept.

“Did you just get in?” I asked.

He gave a brief nod, eyes unwavering. “Did you sleep well?”

I bit my lower lip, walking toward him. “I did. What time is it?”

“Eight.”

I slept ten hours straight. “Looks like you need sleep yourself.”

“I have to head out again, but I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Sandro, you need sleep,” I insisted.

“I’ll be fine, baby.” His voice was soft and warm. It made my stomach do acrobatic flips. I couldn’t hold his eyes and walked into the kitchen. That was when the aroma of freshly baked bread hit my nose.

Beside another vase of sunflowers on the counter sat a bag with the label of Jabbin’ Java.

“Ohhh…” Tears stung my eyes, and like the sunflowers, it became my sole focus.

“It wasn’t Renz who made them, for obvious reasons,” he said.

I peered into the depths of the brown bag and picked up a croissant and inhaled its familiar buttery notes. I pulled one apart. My mouth watered as the flaky layers revealed themselves. “These look so fresh…When…?”

“They open at six thirty. I had Sloane pick up a selection while I waited in Harlem.”

“Sandro…?” What was he playing at?

“Come on, let’s have breakfast.”

“I thought you needed to leave.”

“Are you saying you don’t want my company?”

Not waiting for me to respond, he put his hands on my shoulders and guided me to the breakfast table by the window. I was still under the influence of sleep inertia, or maybe I was mesmerized by this little touch of home, of my husband, who was clearly sleep-deprived, yet felt the compulsion to cater to my needs.

He set a mug of coffee in front of me. “This is the Jabbin’ Java house blend. I made sure Sloane included a couple of pounds of beans too.”

Sandro brought the paper bag to the table, along with two plates. I sipped the coffee and closed my eyes. The familiar brew brought me comfort. Then I opened my eyes to see Sandro watching me with a hint of satisfaction on his face.

He nodded to the paper bag. “Eat.”

I picked through the bag and put the croissant I had split on my plate and put a whole one on his.

“I really appreciate this.” I took a bite of mine and resisted the moan that wanted to escape my mouth. “You really didn’t have to do all this. I mean, you could have come home earlier and slept instead of waiting for Jabbin’ Java to open.”

“I came home at three this morning,” he admitted. “When I entered the bedroom, you were dead to the world. I didn’t wanna risk interrupting your sleep.” He gave a derisive chuckle. “It had been a hellish past two nights for both of us.”

“Sleeping together used to be easier.”

A warm glint entered his eyes. “Whenever you played hooky from school?”

“That wasn’t hooky. I was feeling unwell.”

He cast me a dubious look, letting me know I was full of shit. I’d totally been playing hooky.

“Tommy called me an enabler.” A small laugh gusted past his mouth.

Sandro never cared for school. He didn’t go to college, and he didn’t finish high school senior year because it was around that time he found out Wilma wasn’t his mother. He had “bad-boy rebelling against authority” down pat and it only fueled my obsession with him.

I didn’t get a phone until I turned fourteen, so texting each other didn’t start until then. Sandro usually slept during the day and I feigned illnesses to get out of school early to hang out with him. I had a suspicion he’d bribed the school nurse. He usually picked me up on a street corner to take me back to his apartment. Sometimes Tommy would be there with his then girlfriend and we’d watch a movie, sometimes, it was just Sandro and me.

In my mind, I pretended to be Sandro’s girlfriend. Sigh, even when he was with me, there were times he was on the phone with some girl. When girls my age had delusions of their teen idols or rock stars, mine had always been Sandro. But despite my obsession with him, I never made a move to kiss him. I knew I was too young. Sandro wouldn’t cross that line. And I wouldn’t risk making a move of my own until I was of legal age because I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship before there was a real chance between us.

See? Delusional. But I told myself I was playing the long game.

My escapades lasted for an entire school year. Not that I cut classes all the time, maybe once a month, and not even for an entire day. Except that one time when Sandro and I had planned to watch a special edition trilogy. I skipped classes at noon. I had just set a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table when the buzzer to his apartment went off and we thought it was the pizza we ordered.

It was, but beside the pizza delivery guy, was Dad. When he saw me standing behind Sandro, wearing my school uniform, I wanted to sink into the floor.

I’d never seen Dad so angry.

He didn’t say anything; he just punched Sandro across the face. Then all hell broke loose.

“You’re remembering that day?” Sandro broke through my thoughts.

I nodded, my cheeks heating as if experiencing the humiliation all over again. “I was so embarrassed.”

“If Cesar hadn’t known the man I am, he would have killed me.”

“I think Dad was pissed because you were a bad influence regarding school, not that he thought you were a sexual predator.”

Sandro nodded briefly, thoughtfully. He took a bite of the croissant, chewed, and chased it with coffee. “It was more than that. He said our friendship was getting inappropriate. He convinced me about it then.”

Prior to that scene, Mom had found out I was skipping classes. Either a nurse had come clean or Renz ratted me out. She had warned me it had to stop, but she kept it from Dad until he found out. He and Mom had a big fight that lasted for days. Again, my suspicion was Renz, because Nico and Matteo were away at college. Dad confiscated my phone and grounded me for the summer. I was so mad at everyone; I told them I wanted to die.

Yes, I was that dramatic.

“The next time I saw you was on my fifteenth birthday, but you disappeared to Russia afterward.”

“You thought your old man finally got rid of me.”

“Yes. I hounded Dad and made him swear on his life that he had nothing to do with it.”

“Poor Cesar.” He reached across the table and laced our fingers. “Now he might be planning my funeral for real.”

“Don’t say that.” I let out an exhale that reached the bottom of my feet. “Despite what happened these past few days, I still want to believe we’re going to get out of this unscathed.”

“We will,” he said. “I told you, baby, I want our marriage to work. I’m not letting you go.”

This whole scenario was making much more sense. “So this whole croissant-and-sunflower thing…”

“You might not see your family for a while, but the least I can do is ease the wait for you. Give you a reminder that there’s something good waiting at the end of this.”

“Are you going to be a part of what’s waiting for me at the end?”

This time he clasped my other hand, holding them in his, and despite the tiredness around his eyes, the fierceness in them glittered. “Yes,” he said succinctly. “I meant what I said, Bianca. I love coming home to you.”

“Flowers. Food.” I gave an impish grin. “Sounds a lot like courtship.”

At first, I didn’t understand the frown that appeared between his brows, but then he let go of my hands and reached inside his pocket to slide out his phone.

I tried not to let his work deflate me. “Family business?”

“Yeah.” He put down the phone and grabbed my hands again, bringing them to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. “It’s going to be a busy next few days.”

“I’ll be right here.”

He stood. I could see his entire body hesitate. Sandro really didn’t want to leave me, but he had his job, and I had mine.

I got out of my seat and hugged him. “Please take care.”

He didn’t utter a word. But the kiss on the top of my head and the extra tight squeeze he gave me communicated everything.