Chapter 28

"Wait, so what are you doing in New York?" Alyssa asks again, and I smile.

"It's a long story. Look, is everything okay at home?"

She sighs. "It's fine, but Brynne…"

I cut her off, trying to stick to the plan and not give her any details. The least amount is best. "Listen, we'll talk more when I'm home. I just wanted to let you know I'm alright."

"Yeah, I get that. Brynne, listen…"

I rub my forehead. I knew she'd be the hard one to be vague with. I've been trying to rush her off the phone for almost five minutes now.

"I will tell you everything when I get home in a few days." I don't even know if that's a lie, either. Because I don't know if I'll be going home in a few days, even if I know it's the wisest thing to do.

"Brynne! Shut up, and listen to me!" Alyssa shouts, and I stop pacing the overly clean living room of Slate's apartment.

"Go ahead," I say when she growls into the phone in frustration.

"You need to call your mom."

Palpitations make my chest feel tight as my heart thumps erratically. "Wait, why?" I already planned on calling her, but something in Alyssa's tone tells me something is wrong.

"Because for weeks we've thought you were missing, Brynne. It's been all over the fucking news! There have been entire crews searching for you!"

I grip my chest as panic fills the cavity completely.

"What?" I squeak.

"I don't know where you've been, and that's your tale to tell, but you need to call your mother. It's been a rough couple of weeks, Brynne."

"I'll call her now. I'm so sorry you were so worried, Lyssa."

"Hey, I'm good, girl. I'm so thankful you're alright. You don't owe me an explanation, but put her out of her misery."

"Love you bunches?" I don't know why I'd said it as if I was asking her a question, but I feel it's necessary.

"And bunches, girl. Always. Get home safe. I'll see you soon. I might never let you leave home again if I'm honest."

I laugh through tears as I hang up and dial my mother.

"Hello?" Her voice is haggard and not my pristine, in-control mother's voice at all. She almost sounds as if she's been drinking.

"Mom?"

"Oh my fucking god, Brynne? Are you alright? Where are you? Where have you been?"

A sob filled with shame chokes me, and I fight past it. "I'm so sorry. So much has happened. Things I don't want to talk about over the phone. I had no idea you thought I was missing. There was a snowstorm, and I got lost and I was so far off from where the show set for me to land."

"We've been looking for you for weeks, Brynne. God, I was so scared. Where are you now?"

I bite my lip. "New York. It's a long ass story, and I will tell you when I'm home in a couple of days. I'm so sorry, Mom."

She lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm just thankful you're alright. God, I thought it was like…"

Like when Dad disappeared. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'm alright, Mom. So, the show reported me missing?"

"Yes, they said they couldn't find you. That you weren't where you were supposed to be when they did medical checks."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Must be why when they found my camp they took their equipment. They thought something happened to me."

"Well, Brynne, the producer I spoke to said nothing of yours or theirs has been recovered. I spoke to him yesterday afternoon."

My mind wraps around the information, not quite reaching any conclusions.

Who the hell took the equipment?

"I'm just thankful you're alright. I have your phone and your things here that they took before they dropped you."

The news they'd given her my belongings as if they'd never find me alive, makes me hang my head and cry. I try my damnedest to keep my tears silent, but I know she hears them.

"Keep in touch with me on your way home, alright? I can't go through this again. God, I was so worried."

"I love you, Mom. I will."

I realize it's the first time since I was young that I've told her I love her. It's the first time I've felt emotion out of her since before Dad went missing.

This monumental event was what we both needed to come back together and stop being stubborn assholes.

"I love you, too, Brynne. I'll see you soon."

Sitting on the couch, I eye the phone on the coffee table for what seems like only a few minutes. I'm lost in my head as the light fades beyond the massive windows in the living space.

"Ms. Brynne?" Dante's voice breaks me out of my spiral.

"Hmm?" I look up at him.

He's got two subs in his hands, chips on top of them.

I smile. "You're feeding me now?"

He shrugs, nodding toward the table as he moves over to it and drops the food down. Moving to the bar, he grabs two soft drinks he'd got us to wash it all down.

He pulls out my chair and then pushes it in once I've sat.

"I hope you like Italian hoagies," he says, shoving one across the table toward me after he's settled into his chair.

I smirk. "Thank you for this, Dante."

To him, it's an insignificant gesture, but to me, it's what I needed at the moment. Someone to help me come back to the real world and stop dwelling on things I can't control.

"You fed me. Just repaying the favor."

I open the wrapper on my sub, biting into it with the ferocity of a starving lion cub. "Man," I say with a mouthful of food, "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"I do that all the time when I'm having a bad day."

I lift my eyes toward him.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry. I just recognized the dark clouds in your eyes."

I nod, wiping my mouth with the napkin he'd given me. "You get lost in your head, too?"

He shakes his head, nodding towards Slate's bedroom. "I know someone who does. Usually, it takes more than hoagies to get him back, though. You're way simpler to deal with."

I think of the heavy breathing of the Italian brute when he'd drawn my blood with his blade. The primal fire in his eyes as he'd scrubbed his hands through my blood.

He'd left the apartment last night to handle something and never came home again.

"He's okay now, though, right?" I ask Dante.

He sighs. "He's fine. Just on a job. He'll be back before dinner."

"Dinner?" I lift a brow.

He nods. "You'll be attending a dinner with the Don and his wife."

I choke on a piece of rogue bread that had been sucked into my throat when I tried to gasp. "I'm what? I can't have dinner with a mafia boss!"

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips. "I don't see why not. You're fucking his Underboss."

My eyes go wide. His words hit my frontal lobe like a fucking baseball to the forehead.

"Calling him Daddy, too." He laughs, popping a chip into his mouth. "Seems you're good with the respect aspect of this lifestyle. Like it, even."

"Dante!" I accuse, trying not to smirk.

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "I just call it how I see it."

I chuckle despite myself. "I see that."

"Well, even if I was okay with this dinner, I have nothing to wear."

He nods, swallowing before speaking again. "Celine will be here later to dress you and sort out your hair."

I instinctively reach up and touch my hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"

He looks it over, his eyes saying enough.

"Never mind," I tell him.

He smiles ruefully, and I return the gesture, shaking my head.

For a man in the mafia, Dante isn't intimidating. More like, he looks like someone who'd cuddle up and watch television with you until the wee hours when you don't feel good.

"Dante, can I ask you a question?"

His brows lift. "I won't marry you. I don't want Daddy to kill me."

He's not going to let what he heard go.

I throw my napkin at him across the table.

He laughs as he catches it. "Go ahead."

"Have you killed people?"

His face darkens, his smile fading as his jaw bulges on both sides of his head as he clenches his teeth. He looks down at his food, a storm descending on him.

"I didn't mean to offend you…"

He lifts a hand. "You didn't. It's just, that we don't speak about things like that, Ms. Brynne. But it's how one becomes…" He searches for a word that he's allowed to say, it seems.

"Made."

He nods. "Reborn into this life."

"Through blood," I add.

He nods softly. "You'd know about that, though. Wouldn't you?"

Now it's my turn to look down, searching for how much I want to let him in. How much am I allowed to is the question?

"You know?" I ask, looking up at him as I toy with a chip that's on my sub wrapper.

He shakes his head. "I don't know a thing. It's just a man like me knows when I'm amongst a kindred spirit."

My lips part as I breathe through the panic, trying to crawl up my throat like a demon crawling its way out of the pits of hell.

"Does it ever not stain you?"

He licks his lip as if he's going to respond. But he decides better of it and shakes his head.

A knock at the door breaks the moment between us. Dante rubs his hands together, stepping out of the dark bubble we'd been floating within like a professional.

"You're going to love Celine. She's a fucking trip!"

I take a few more bites and steel the heaviness weighing me down as I put on a lighter face and a smile to greet Celine. It's not until I shake her hand and greet her that I realize I've just done the same thing Dante did.

I'd donned a mask.

When I look at him as Celine leads me off towards Slate's bedroom, I realize he's probably hurting just as much as I am. It's all an act.

This life is something that will take your soul as payment, and for the rest of the time you live it, you'll be pretending you're alright.

And I don't know if I'm okay with that.

* * *

I've been poked, prodded, had make-up applied, and my hair done into a tight updo.

Celine looks at me as I balance on thin, six-inch heels. My dress goes to mid-thigh, highly inappropriate for a dinner with anyone, but that's my opinion. I love it. It's just like something I'd wear to go out with Alyssa. It's black and sleek, thin straps that lead to a plunging neckline, showing off my full breasts.

"He's going to love this," she says finally, clapping her hands with excitement.

I don't know why I'd been so eager to please her with a look that she put together, but as I was awaiting her final approval, I'd been holding my breath.

Dante was right, she's a character. She's short, stout, in her seventies, and she's a very boisterous personality.

I open my mouth to tell her I don't know if Slate will even make it on time, and he walks through the door covered in blood.

"Oh, Ardesia, good to see you again. What do you think?" Celine says, backing out of his way. She's fully unfazed by the blood smattering every inch of him.

He stops and looks me up and down, and I notice the difference in his murderous eyes right off.

I shiver under his stare.

He licks his lips. "You look good enough to eat, bunny."

"Don't ruin my hard work!" Celine exclaims.

He's got blood all over his body, looking like something that just emerged from a lake filled with the metallic stuff.

When he winks at me, I let out a heavy breath, even though fear is rippling against the outer walls of my veins as I take in the state of him.

"Give me a few to shower, and we'll get going to dinner," he says simply, going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

I look toward Celine. She shakes her head. "Got to love how they only need a few moments to look breathtaking, when we take hours to put every hair into place."

I feign a smile through the building worry. "Right?"

Celine packs up and leaves and I'm left in the living room, trying my hardest to sit in a manner that won't make my dress wrinkle.

Dante is standing by the door, back to stoic now that one of his bosses is back home.

When Slate finally emerges from the room, he's in a full suit, and I'm rendered speechless. His hair is swooped back with product, and he's buttoning his cufflinks, every vein in his hands popping like the best vein porn I've ever seen.

I lick my lips as his eyes lift to mine. A feral smile tugs at his lips.

"Ready, baby girl?"

I nod, words absent from my brain.

I want to know what happened to him. I want to know why he'd come in looking as he had, but when I slip my arm through his, Dante's eyes connect with mine. He shakes his head at me softly enough only I notice it and I know my questions need to wait.

So I let the veil fall. The one I'll wear until we get back home.

It's easier this time. I stand tall and move my hand down his arm, intertwining our fingers. He squeezes them, and I register the shake in his hand.

When I look at him as Dante opens the door and checks the hall, though, I see nothing of the sort on his face.

The more I see of his world, the more it seems it's all a show. One where you can't be yourself. Only what others think you are.