Chapter Twelve

Dad had come over to my apartment to say goodbye the night before my flight to Paris. Now he was watching me pack my suitcase with an air of silent disapproval that he was a master at.

“You know what I think about this. My opinion hasn’t changed,” Dad said while I tried to shove another pair of pants into my already crammed suitcase. We were of course flying first class so I could have taken three suitcases with me, but I was too lazy to pack that much and so I chose to cram as much stuff as possible into a single piece of luggage.

“You haven’t held back your opinion, Dad. And you know I agree with you. I don’t want to go and it’s most likely a bad idea, but as I keep telling you, I don’t have a choice.”

“We always have a choice.”

I sighed, giving up on fitting the pants into the suitcase. “Yes, we do. But sometimes the choice is only between pest and cholera.”

“I could go in your stead. Valentina and Dante trust me. They’ll let me watch Anna.”

Anna would do everything in her power to prevent that. She wanted me in Paris with her, and in usual Anna fashion, she’d find a way to get her will. “Frederica needs you here. You’ll have to make sure she doesn’t forget to live.”

“She’s busy, and you know she won’t listen to me. She’s eighteen now and with the path she’s chosen, I can’t interfere.”

“You could arrange a marriage for her and ignore her choice.”

Dad shook his head. “Not a single priest would agree to do the ceremony.”

I sank down on my bed and allowed myself one last look around the apartment. I’d bought it only last year from my savings. I’d felt proud having my own place that I’d bought with my hard hard-earned money. Dad had offered to give me money so I could buy a place sooner, but I’d wanted to do it myself. Now I’d leave my home behind to watch Anna 24/7. I’d never felt the desire to travel the world, to uproot my life and live somewhere else. Chicago was my home. I’d grown up in those streets, knew almost every corner, even the most notorious ones. I fucking loved going to the same coffee shop every morning where I knew the barista’s entire family history, I loved going to my favorite restaurant and being able to order food without looking at the menu because I knew it by heart. Anna was different. She wanted to experience new things, wanted to roam the world.

Now she was dragging me along. She didn’t care if I wanted this or not. For her, it was a game. She didn’t care if I couldn’t risk playing her game. Of course, part of it was my fucking fault. The kiss we’d shared had definitely sent her the wrong message. Now she would be even more determined to push my buttons, and Paris was the perfect place for that.

I had sworn myself not to fall trap to her mind fuckery again. I had plenty of self-control in general. In the last few months, I’d reinforced my walls, had been as professional around Anna as humanly possible, had let out whatever pent-up energy I had in the gym or with one of the lonely wives who wanted dick.

Anna had respected the new boundaries I’d set, which could mean only one thing: she was waiting for a better time to attack, and I knew exactly when that would be. In Paris, the goddamn city of love. What bullshit.

The next day, around lunchtime, Dad and I headed to the Cavallaro mansion together in his car. Our flight was scheduled in the late afternoon, so we had time.

Three suitcases waited in the entrance hall when we stepped into the house. Anna was probably still packing her three suitcases in her room.

To my surprise, I spotted her in the living room with her little sister Bea on her lap.

“Where’s the rest?” I motioned at the suitcases. “My father and I are going to load them into the car now.”

“That’s all,” Anna said. “Mom has one suitcase and I have two.”

“Only two? Are you sure you have packed enough outfits?”

Anna gave me a sweet smile. “Paris is the home of fashion. Why should I bring what I can buy there or create myself?”

Dante came out of his office and headed my way. “We’ll say our goodbyes here. I don’t want to draw too much attention to your trip to Paris.”

“That’s reasonable.”

I glanced at the clock. “We should leave in about fifteen minutes, just to make sure we have plenty of time.”

Dad and I carried the suitcases out into the car, and when we returned the Cavallaros were already in the midst of their farewells. Valentina held Bea in her arms who clung tightly to her mother. Anna was wrapped in her father’s arms and actually crying. Despite having worked for the Cavallaros for years, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Anna cry. She was like her father in that regard.

I stepped back outside to give them some privacy but kept glancing inside from the corner of my eye as Anna hugged her brother next. Those two often fought but you could tell they were close. Watching Anna being so honestly emotional and cry, I felt a hint of guilt over being an asshole to her most of the time, but it was the only way how I could keep her at a distance.

I really wished I hadn’t seen this vulnerable side of Anna. Fuck. Now I would have an even harder time pushing her away.

Dad watched me, no longer disapproving, but with honest concern.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

He nodded, but he didn’t believe it.

In all honesty, neither did I.

When we boarded the plane to Paris in late January, I could have danced from joy. Until the last moment I’d been worried Dad would change his mind and not allow me to leave for France. The wistfulness and sadness lifted off my shoulders as soon as we lifted off the ground.

Mom accompanied us and would stay for a week to help me settle in, and to make sure everything was to her satisfaction. Of course, I knew she also wanted to make sure Santino and I didn’t seem too close. That was the only advantage of the cold war between Santino and me at the moment. Nobody would suspect there could ever be anything between us.

When I stepped into the apartment that Dad had rented for us, my heart did a little jump. It was near the Jardin de Trocadero and had a partial view of the Eiffel Tower from the small balcony with its iron banisters and flower pots. A small round metal table and two very uncomfortable matching chairs filled the space. I couldn’t wait to have breakfast there.

It was a two-bedroom place with high ceilings and old wooden floors. The interior was a mix of a few old art nouveau pieces and modern French furniture from Roche Bobois.

I was in heaven. I hugged Mom tightly, completely overwhelmed. “It’s perfect!”

“Your dad and I picked it together.”

“I wish Dad could be here now.”

“We’ll all come to visit you over Easter, Anna.”

That was still two months away. I bit my lip. “I hope nothing happens that’ll force Dad to stay in Chicago.” Dad was dutiful and wouldn’t leave his men to deal with problems alone if something major happened. But he’d never missed one of our family holidays, not birthdays, Christmas, or Easter. And I really hoped this time would be no different.

I glanced over my shoulder at Santino who lounged on the colorful sofa. With his sour expression, he looked out of place amid the red and orange and yellow of the Missoni fabric of the Roche Bobois sofa. His arms were stretched out on the backrest and his legs parted in his usual bad boy man-spread way. He slanted me a look, his expression unmoving.

“You can pick a room,” I told him.

He pushed to his feet without a word and checked the two bedrooms. Even the cold shoulder treatment from him was hot.

Mom touched my shoulder and I met her gaze. “I still worry about you being all by yourself in this place.”

“I have Santino.”

Mom’s lips pursed. “With a grown man under the same roof—”

“Mom, now you sound like Grandmother.” Dad’s mom was ancient and so were her views.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I can handle myself. I have been alone with Santino before and he’s such a dutiful killjoy, you really don’t have to worry of me having too much fun. He’ll prevent it, trust me.”

Mom laughed, looking entirely too happy about that. “Your dad will be very pleased.”

“I’m sure he had a conversation with Santino before we left Chicago.”

“Of course.”

I shook my head.

Santino came back out of the bedroom to the left and closer to the entrance door. “I’ll take this one.”

I strode into the other bedroom. It didn’t have a view of the Eiffel Tower like the living room, only at the facade of the houses across the street but I still loved the room for its chic coziness.

Then something registered on me. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“In Europe, en suite bathrooms aren’t common, especially in older buildings. There’s only one shared bathroom.”

Santino would hate it, and I wasn’t quite sure I enjoyed the shared toilet situation. Santino and I weren’t at a point in our relationship where I wanted him to know I had any kind of body functions. Yet, the shared bathroom offered many opportunities for “accidental” nudity.

The idea of catching Santino under the shower was definitely pleasant.

Mom and I would share my queen-sized bed for the week that she was going to be in Paris. I still had three weeks before the first introductory courses would begin, which was perfect to get acclimated and get used to speaking French. My practical skills were a bit rusty.

I thoroughly enjoyed the days with Mom. Since Bea had been born, I’d very rarely had her completely to myself, so going shopping on the Avenue des Champs-élysées together and sightseeing every beautiful corner of Paris proved to be a wonderful experience. Santino managed to fade into the background, giving us space while keeping a close eye on us, and I really appreciated his ability to gift us with a feeling of normalcy.

I felt already freer than I ever had in Chicago. In Paris, nobody knew us and with Santino’s discreet way of watching us, nobody even knew we were guarded.

On our last evening together before Mom would return to Chicago, she and I leaned against the headboard of my bed, talking for a long time. I rested my head on her shoulder, soaking in her comforting scent. “Do you ever miss the days when you were younger and not a Capo’s wife? Everyone’s attention is always on you.”

Mom didn’t answer right away. “Even before I married your dad, I was being judged and had a certain level of attention on myself due to my backstory. But of course, being a Cavallaro multiplies the pressure. I suppose for me what helped braving the pressure of the outside world was your father’s support. I knew he had my back and in private I could be myself, without the pressure of expectations. Our family gave me the necessary cushion to fall on.”

I nodded because that’s how I felt about our family as well. “I hope Clifford will have my back.”

Mom took my hand. “Once he’ll get to know you better, he will. He’ll realize how wonderful you are, how could he not?”

I laughed. “I think you’re biased.”

“I want you to be happy, Anna. Your dad and I chose Clifford because we think he could give you the kind of life you desire.”

“If I was promised to a Made Man, I couldn’t have studied in Paris, so you’ve made the right choice.”

For now, being engaged to Clifford gave me more freedom than I’d ever dared to dream of. Whatever happened after I married Clifford… I would handle it then.

I couldn’t sleep, so I settled on the balcony despite the cold.

Tomorrow Valentina would fly back home and leave me alone with Anna. The last few days in Paris and even before that, in the weeks leading up to our trip, Anna had kept her distance and been civilly polite. I didn’t trust her sudden reserve.

The moment Valentina was gone, Anna would attack. I could practically smell her eagerness to push my buttons.

The floorboards groaned under quiet steps. I was surprised when Valentina settled on the chair beside me, wrapped in a thick woolen coat and still shivering.

“I see you can’t sleep either,” she said pleasantly, but I didn’t miss the underlying tension. She had come out with a purpose in mind. “Before I’m returning home tomorrow, I’d like to have a word with you.”

I leaned back with a sardonic smile. “Your husband already gave me a very impressive warning before we left for Paris.”

“I’m sure he did, but I’m also sure that Dante, as most fathers, doesn’t notice the little details like mothers do.”

I waited expectantly. I doubted Anna shared any of her excessive flirting or blackmailing with her mother. Anna was too clever for that and even if she trusted her mother, she wouldn’t risk Paris for that.

“Ten years become less and less relevant over time. Anna is of age. That’s a fact that definitely will have changed things, not just in her mind but also in yours.”

“Being of age isn’t the main deterrence in our world. Anna is my Capo’s daughter, that’s what really matters.”

“Maybe. But you’re also far from home and Anna knows this is her shot at freedom. You’re the easiest option for her.”

Ouch. That was one way to look at it, and probably not far from the truth. Anna wanted fun without the risk of losing her good girl reputation. With me, she wouldn’t have to worry about word getting out. I’d chew my own dick off before spreading the news that I was banging her. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re so invested in making sure Anna doesn’t enjoy herself too much in Paris. I thought you were one of the strongest supporters of allowing girls to not be virgins until their wedding.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m concerned for Anna’s safety. I don’t mind if she meets a boy her age and experiences the same things Clifford does as long as I know she’s safe. But I don’t want her to start anything with you. I know Anna has had a crush on you when she was younger. I’m not sure about the current state of things because she’s become better at masking her emotions, but like I said, you’re a safe and easy option for her. I don’t want you to take her up on any advances.”

So some random French guy was good enough? But I wasn’t? What the fuck?

As if Valentina could read my thoughts, she continued unfazed. “Any boy she meets here, will be forgotten once she’s back in Chicago, but you’ll be around and that’s a catastrophe about to happen. I want your word that you won’t touch Anna and that you’ll let me know if she tries anything so I can either send her a new bodyguard or bring her back home.”

I sighed. “I promise.”

Anna wasn’t the only good liar because deep down I knew I wouldn’t give Valentina that call no matter what happened.

Valentina disappeared in the security check area and Anna turned to me with a serene smile that set my alarm bells off.

“Don’t try anything, or I’ll call your father even if it costs me my job.”

She smiled in that innocent way that didn’t fool me anymore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The fuck she didn’t. This girl had trouble written all over her. When she settled on the passenger seat in our rental car, I half expected her to try something as I drove us home, but she surprised me by glancing out the window almost contemplatively.

Maybe she had finally accepted that we couldn’t happen. It was a little disconcerting that I didn’t feel the elation that I should.

“We should consider giving back the car and renting a Vespa instead. We could weave through traffic and not get stuck in it,” she said when we’d been crawling through Parisian traffic for almost an hour.

I followed her gaze toward a mint-colored Vespa. The guy driving the thing wore a matching helmet and tight pants that accentuated long lean legs that would make most girls jealous. “I’m not metrosexual enough for that.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Being manly isn’t linked to what vehicle you drive. It’s a practical choice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’d be surprised how much fun you could have doing the unexpected.”