“I have an idea,” I tell both of them.
“What?” Jazzy asks.
“Come with me.” I curl a finger in a “follow me” motion and turn around. I walk into the bedroom, pick up the remote, and press the button that has the television screen coming down from the ceiling.
“Wow.” Jazzy watches in awe.
“Movie night. Jump on,” I say, pulling the blankets back on the bed.
Antonia stands in the doorway, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“Come on,” I tell her. Jazzy curls up in the middle and Antonia finally climbs in on the other side. “What do you want to watch?”
“Beauty and the Beast,” Jazzy says. It’s one of her favorites.
About fifteen minutes into the movie, she’s out. I turn it off and get comfortable.Damn, I’ve missed this bed.
Antonia is lying down, facing me. “You’re a really good dad, Carlo,” she whispers.
“She makes it easy,” I say, appreciating the compliment more than anyone will ever know.
My arm wraps over the top of Jazzy and I reach for my wife’s hand. Thankful when she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she holds on and closes her eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
After spending the morning house shopping with Carlo and Jazzy, I had enough time to make my last class for the day. I’ve missed so much school. I really need to focus if I’m going to actually graduate.
Andnot graduatinghas never been an option. Although a part of me has to wonder… now that I’m not under my father’shouse, can I choose a different path? I don’t think Carlo would care. I should ask him.
Scratch that. I don’t need his permission.
I need to think for myself. I might be stuck being married to him. But I’m going to make the most of this new semi-freedom I have. Carlo isn’t my father. He’s not going to lash out at me. He won’t even raise his voice when Jazzy’s around, and most of the time, she is. It’s been on my mind to mention her schooling and ask what he plans on doing about it. The kid needs to be in school.
The only reason I haven’t is because I don’t want to overstep. He’s seemed to back off a lot when it comes to my interactions with her. I get that he’s protective of her, and he has this hangup of me thinking he married me to become her nanny. But I don’t think that. I don’t know why he married me. I haven’t discovered what he gets out of the deal. I don’t even know what my father gets out of the deal. I just know I was the pawn.
Nothing like knowing your life is a currency, an exchange between two powerful families, and there is not a single thing you can do about it.
The text message from yesterday is still playing on my mind. I can’t let someone hurt Carlo, because hurting him will hurt Jazzy, and I refuse to hurt that little girl more than she already has been. I also promised her I wasn’t going anywhere. Do I want out of this marriage?Yes.But not because of her. I want out because I don’t trust Carlo not to break my heart again. I don’t trust him to keep his vows.
And I want to be in a marriage based on love, not a damn business deal. I should accept the fact that’s never going to happen for me. I should, but it’s hard to let go of the fantasy.
At the end of class, I pack up my bags. I’m always among the last to leave the lecture hall. I like taking my time, and the factthat I have two beefcakes following me kind of makes me wait until everyone else is out. So we’re not fighting the crowd.
A woman makes her way up the aisle. I’ve never seen her before. She looks frail. Almost like if a wind blew, she’d fall down. She’s wearing a baseball cap low over her face. I can’t see her eyes. But she stops at the row I’m in and drops something on the table two seats down from me. She glances in my direction before hurrying out the door.
“Wait! You dropped this…” I stand and pick up my bag and then the envelope she dropped. I’m about to chase after her when I notice my name is written across the front in cursive lettering.
“What is it?” Beefcake one asks me.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, tucking the envelope into my bag. “I need to get home.”
I follow number two, and number one followsmeas we make our way out to the SUV. People stare but I’m used to it. They’ve always stared at me. I’ve always been the daughter of a mob boss—or at least a suspected one.
When I get back to the penthouse, the place is quiet. I have no idea where Carlo and Jazzy are. I also have no intention of asking him either. I drop my bag in the living room. After grabbing a soda and a bag of chips from the pantry, I settle in on the sofa and pull out my laptop. I have assignments to do.
The letter I shoved into my bag sticks out of the pocket. I pull it out and tear it open.
Dear Antonia,
