Deception Page 9

  “H-has she learned anything more about the break-in?”

  Nox’s hand ran through his sex-messed hair. “Her priority shifted when someone decided to use us for target practice.”

  “But they could be connected?”

  He nodded. “They could.” He leaned down upon the bed. “Both are connected to you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not saying you’re involved, though some on her team are insinuating that.”

  What?

  “I’m saying,” he went on, “that someone could be trying to get to me through you. First, there was the attack on Chelsea, then the break-in at our apartment, and now this. I’m saying that this house is the safest place for you until we know more. Even Oren agrees.”

  Oren? He spoke with his father?

  “Contact your professors. Claim illness, the flu, I don’t give a fuck. Ask to read from home. If you need anything from the apartment, tell Jerrod or Deloris. They’ll get it and bring it to you.” His blue eyes widened. “Don’t they offer teleconferencing of the lectures?”

  My gaze narrowed. “How would you know that?”

  “You, Miss Collins, left all of your school shit all over the kitchen table for over two weeks. Did you not think I’d at least glance at all the crap?”

  I folded my arms over my sheet-covered breasts. “Nox, I don’t want to start my career as a law student as the one hearing the recorded lecture. I want to be the one sitting in the front row and asking the pertinent questions. Do you think I graduated with honors by doing the minimum?”

  “No, princess, I don’t. I think you knocked it out of the park, because believe me, what we just did here, well, let me say, you hit a home run.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “I fucking hate this. I do. I want you to succeed. I also need to know you’re alive and safe. Today’s Wednesday. Give Deloris a day or two. Call Columbia. Tell them whatever you need to tell them. I’ll be back on the weekend.”

  “Weekend?” I asked. “You want me to stay here for three days? What about Patrick’s apartment?”

  Nox’s blue stare lowered a degree or two. The temperature was nearing freezing. Ice was not far away. “Alexandria Collins, this conversation is done.”

  “I only have my laptop.”

  “My office is your office. Help yourself. I’ll leave all the necessary passwords on the desk.”

  “Deloris?”

  “She’ll be out here later. Let her or Jerrod know what you need and they’ll bring it.”

  I sighed, laying my head back against the headboard.

  “And stay inside,” he went on. “I’m not even a fan of the pool house, at least until Deloris is certain of the perimeter.”

  Perimeter? I’m in a damn war zone.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Princess, you have a choice. If you choose me, then that’s your choice.”

  “Fuck, Nox, of course my choice is you. Just tell me that I’ll be able to go back and be the student in the front row.”

  “As soon as it’s safe.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “What about me?”

  “How will I know you’re safe? Are you flying commercial or in your Batplane?”

  “Batplane. The super-secret gadgets let me fly under the radar.”

  I smiled at his grin and the menacing gleam, yet if he could be worried about me, I could be worried about him. “I still haven’t seen your cape, and I’d say we’re past the third date.”

  “No, princess, you haven’t seen my cape, but you’ve seen under the mask. You do realize that makes you part of a very elite group.”

  Though he was joking, I found more than a little bit of truth in his humor. Lennox Demetri had shown me a side of himself that I doubted many people had seen or even knew existed.

  I pursed my lips. “Fine. I’ll stay here. Just promise me that you’ll come back. Promise me that you’ll stay safe.”

  Once again he leaned down on the bed. This time he kissed me, soft and chaste. “I promise. Thank you for not fighting me on this. I need to concentrate on the hearing.” He looked down at his phone. “I need to be going.”

  I nodded. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Will you please ask Silvia to hold my lunch?”

  When he looked up, the menacing gleam was gone.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Look at this.” For the second time today, he thrust his phone my direction. “You might want to reconsider what you tell your professors.”

  My stomach dropped as I secured his phone in my now-shaky grasp. The video queued on the screen needed only for me to push the small triangle in order for it to play. In the still picture I could make out a crowd of people.

  I hit the triangle.

  The sound was terrible, mostly static and unrecognizable voices. The picture was shaky and unfocused. It had undoubtedly been taken with someone’s cell phone. It wasn’t until near the end when the photographer zoomed in on a couple being escorted into an SUV that I saw myself. Instead of keeping my head down like Nox had done, I looked up over my shoulder at the crowd. There wasn’t a name, but it wouldn’t take long before it was figured out.

  The small news snippet asked if anyone knew how this couple was involved in the shooting of an innocent woman in Central Park.

  I dropped the phone on the bed, my stomach bubbling with acid and dread. “What? What can I do?”

  “Stay put. Let me talk to Deloris. Don’t call Columbia or talk to anyone until she tells you what to say.”

  I nodded.

  “Princess, I love you. Don’t go rogue on me. With all the fucking chaos, please let me have the peace of knowing that you’re safe.”

  The corner of my lips quirked upward as I tilted my head. “Only because you begged, Mr. Demetri. I do love it when you beg.”

  Nox came closer and reached for my hand, encouraging me to stand.

  “No,” I shook my head. “I’m… well, I reek.”

  “Fucking stop saying that,” he admonished as he pulled me to my feet. “You smell amazing.” He smoothed my hair. “And your hair is perfect. Hot sex is the best hairstyle on you.”

  My cheeks filled with warmth as they undoubtedly colored with crimson.

  He pulled me close, my bare skin against his slacks and shirt. I inhaled as the cold buckle of his belt sent a chill against my stomach. “Alexandria Collins, I meant it when I said I love you. I will beg you every fucking day if it keeps you with me, but…” The gleam returned to his sexy blue eyes. “…I expect to be obeyed.” I fidgeted in his grasp. “Princess, I’ll be glad to spank your ass, just don’t make me do it because of your putting yourself in danger.”

  “Is that a promise, Mr. Demetri?”

  He shook his head. “Are you trying to make me later than I already am?”

  I nodded. “Guilty as charged. I’m trying to make you want to stay with me. Maybe you should punish me now?”

  He shook his head again. “I should, and I do want to stay.” He kissed me, his tongue teasing my lips, urging them to part. Willingly, I opened, taking all that he had to offer. When he pulled away, he continued. “I’ll call.”

  “Nox?”

  “Yes, princess?”

  “I love you, too. You told me that you’re always truthful. You promised you’d come back safe. I’m holding you to that.”

  “I won’t disappoint.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin, though my chest felt as though my heart might break. He was right. He hadn’t disappointed me yet.

  I stood nude in the darkened room, the evidence of our lovemaking fresh upon my thighs as Nox disappeared through the door, leaving me alone.

  I PUSHED THE chicken salad around my plate, separating the grapes from the nuts. I liked them all, but I wasn’t hungry. Lifting my gaze from my plate, I stared out of the breakfast-nook windows toward the water. The afternoon sun looked warm as it shone not only on the crystal blue pool, but also beyond the deep gre
en lawn to the sound. The scene was beautiful, calming even.

  I needed something to calm me as I waited for Nox’s call. How long did it take to fly from New York to DC? Considering the time it took for my shower and now lunch, he’d been gone for nearly an hour. Rationally I knew he’d also need to be driven back to the city, but that didn’t stop my heart from aching.

  My phone sat beside my plate. If I weren’t waiting for his call, I’d turn off the sound. From the clamor of noises—notifications, emails, and tweets—I suspected that my name had been discovered as one of the people leaving the scene of a shooting.

  What did that even mean?

  We couldn’t be suspects, could we?

  With a huff, I pushed back the plate, grabbed my phone and the tall glass of iced tea. Even with the shower, I’d like something else to wear. My capris and top seemed jaded by the memories of the scene in the park. As I walked around Nox’s lovely home, I didn’t notice the elegant furnishings or the stately architecture. My mind was desperately trying to replay the morning scene.

  In the photo I was looking beyond the bodyguards, looking out to the crowd. Yet I couldn’t recall seeing the victim.

  My nearly empty stomach twisted.

  The woman’s only crime was jogging. I jogged in the park every Saturday. I’d just been talking to Nox, telling him how we should run in the park instead of on a treadmill. That was all she’d been doing—exercising, and with her child no less.

  I was an English and political science major. Physics was never my thing. After calculus I went into micro- and macroeconomics. I understood math as a property of finance, not angles and projections. Somehow, a bullet aimed at either Nox or me was shot from a gun with one of us in the sights and by a person who I would venture to guess was good at what he or she did, when at just precisely the right moment, this woman stepped into its trajectory.

  How ironic was that?

  The shrill ring of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I recognized the tune. It was my mother. I took a deep breath as I turned the screen toward me and confirmed the name.

  I could let it go to voicemail, but eventually I’d need to talk to her. Had she seen my picture? Did she know I was—at the very least—connected to a violent crime in Central Park?

  Taking a deep breath, I swiped the screen and held tightly to my midsection. With my phone to my ear, I said, “Hi, Momma.”

  “Alexandria, I’m sending a plane. Where in the fuck are you? You’re coming home today.”

  The phone didn’t need to be at my ear. Silvia, no matter where she was in the house, could probably hear. It wasn’t the words that set my nerves into overdrive. It was the voice.

  With the small hairs standing at attention on the back of my neck, I sucked in another breath. “Alton, where’s my mother?”

  “FAMILY,” CARMINE COSTELLO said as he hugged Angelina.

  “Zio,” she replied with a smile.

  “Oren,” he said, his hand extended.

  “Sir, we’re happy to be here today.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Costello replied as he walked through the house, his arm around my wife, his niece.

  What I’d said was partially true. Angelina and I would never decline an invitation to her uncle’s home. That wasn’t only because he was her family, her father’s brother, but because he was the head of her family. No one declined an invitation.

  It wasn’t as easy as it had been to get to the Costello home. When we’d still lived in Brooklyn, we could walk. Now we had our house in Westchester County. Sometimes it was as though they had forgotten that we’d moved. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d received late-night phone calls requesting my presence at a family meeting. Thankfully, late at night, the traffic was more forgiving.

  This wasn’t late at night. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and the tree-lined street was filled with cars. We’d practically needed to walk from our old brownstone in order to find a place to park.

  Angelina’s Uncle Carmine had met us at the top of the tall steps at the threshold of his home. As we made our way down the long hallway toward the beautiful courtyard out back, the other guests came into view. In the world where Angelina was born, this was an honor to be amongst these people. We were on the inside, along with family that was either blood or who’d earned their way to the inner circle. Earning that right came with the same price—blood.

  Blood in, blood out.

  The backyard was festive with voices and laughter. Angelina made her way over to Vinny’s wife, Bella, and offered her congratulations. We weren’t celebrating her accomplishment, but that of her daughter. We were all gathered to celebrate the first communion of Carmine’s granddaughter and Vincent’s daughter, Luisa, the princess.

  I turned to talk to Lennox, to remind him to behave, but he was already gone. He’d run off to the area of the yard where the other children were playing. He was with Luca, Vincent’s boy, who was the same age as Lennox. The way Luca stood holding court over his siblings and cousins reminded me more of his grandfather than of his father.

  “Oren,” Vinny said as he patted my shoulder. “Good to have you here. I heard Angel speaking to Rose. That gift, man, you didn’t need to do that.”

  The gift was a silver jewelry box engraved with Luisa’s name and a white gold cross necklace. It was expensive, but nothing but the best for Carmine Costello’s family.

  “You know how it is,” I said, watching the ease in which Angelina intermingled with the other wives. “Your cousin was the one who picked it out.”

  Vinny laughed. “Glad to hear that jewelry box shopping isn’t your thing.”

  “No, but jewelry…” I left the innuendo floating in the wind as a young girl brought us each a beer.

  I’d recently inquired about a few upper-end jewelry stores. They were ripe for the picking. The recent housing boom had taken the lion’s share of disposable income, leaving the high-end jewelry market in the affluent suburbs strapped for cash. It was a great investment that I was sure would pay off in merchandise, revenue, and real estate. The buildings themselves were in prime locations. Demetri Enterprises would broaden its umbrella, including more reputable businesses.

  I had the investors and the backing, and had worked out most of the kinks.

  The problem was that only one of the buildings was in the Costello family neighborhood. I couldn’t buy just one. The deal was for three and two were in a neighborhood watched over by another family. Personally, I didn’t have a problem. I knew the rules. I’d either be paying family for the pleasure of doing business or someone else.

  That would’ve worked if I weren’t married to a Costello, but I was. The deal wouldn’t nor could it be finalized without Carmine’s approval.

  “Not today,” Vinny said as he tilted his head toward his father. “He knows. He’s considering. That’s all I’ve got right now.”

  I nodded as I brought the brown bottle to my lips and took a swallow.

  “This legit thing,” he asked, “you really want to make it work?”

  “I do, as much as I can.” I lowered my voice. “I know it’ll never be one hundred percent. I’ll take what I can… for her.” I looked up to see Angelina looking my way, her blue eyes smiling as our gazes met.

  “Yeah, I get it. Things aren’t the way they were, but we’re family. We look out for one another. And there are rules,” he added, as if I needed to be reminded.

  My chest expanded with my intake of air, though it suddenly felt tight. Although Vinny had just told me that his daughter’s party wasn’t the place to talk business, he’d essentially laid it on the line. My quest for legitimate business would always be at the grace of family. They’d decide what I could and couldn’t do. As long as I stayed in their good graces, I had options. That meant not only seeking approval, but also allowing anything under the Demetri Enterprises umbrella to be available to the family whenever they wanted it.

  “Oren,” Carmine’s booming voice interrupted our private conversation.
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  “Sir, nice party.”

  “Yes, Luisa is a vision. As you know, I never had a daughter of my own.” He patted Vinny on the shoulder. “Sons… a man needs his sons, but a girl, a beautiful girl… my Vincent here’s been blessed with both. Look at Luisa. I’m sorry you, Angelina, and Lennox didn’t make the church service. Her white dress…” He shook his head. “…a princess. She looked like a princess.”

  “The sparkling tiara added to the effect,” Vinny offered with a grin.

  “Nothing but the best,” Carmine said, tilting his head toward his son, excusing him from the conversation.

  I found myself standing taller, wondering if this was my thirty-second elevator pitch. I’d just been told not to bring up the stores here at the party. It was, after all, Luisa’s day, but how often did I have a one-on-one with Carmine Costello?

  “Daughters, you know what I mean,” Carmine asked, “with only a son?”

  I nodded. “I do. Our son means everything.”

  “But Angelina, she’d like a daughter?”

  I shrugged. “We’ve both decided one child is what we want.”

  With his lips together, he moved his head—actually his entire upper body—up and down, whether in agreement or concentration, I wasn’t sure.

  “Angelina, she’s like my daughter.”

  This time I agreed. I’d known that since before I got up the nerve to ask her on our first date.

  “That’s why she means so much to me. She’s happy. Tell me she’s happy,” Carmine implored.

  “Sir, I believe she is.”

  “You believe? A man must be sure. That woman over there is either your world or she’s not. There’s no in between.”

  “She is.” I meant every word as I followed her with my eyes. We’d had our share of fights. She had her uncle’s temper, like a loose cannon, and yet she was also the most loving mother and wife.

  The move had been the hardest thing on our marriage. She’d been happy in Brooklyn, but she deserved more. Even though she didn’t see it, I wanted to show not only her, but also Carmine and the rest of the Costellos that I could take care of their pride and joy. I could give her more than she’d had. The house in Rye was everything she’d ever said she wanted.