Chapter 14 I Hope Youre Right

I reluctantly follow his directions to Sky Tower on 52nd Street in Lower Manhattan.

A card from his wallet grants us entrance into the parking structure of the highly coveted, extremely expensive apartment complex.

"What are we doing here?"

"Park. 3503." He points to an empty space near the elevator.

"Is this your place?"

He doesn't answer me as we park. "Let's go."

"No. You get out here," I say.

"Come up with me." He speaks through gritted teeth, showing his frustration with me. I don't care. He's inconsequential to me now.

"Is this your place?" I repeat my question.

"Come up with me." He repeats his non-answer.

"I don't see the point."

He exaggerates his groan, climbs out of the passenger seat, and slams the door. Good. I'm disappointed he gave up but relieved this horrid evening is over .

I switch into reverse and look over my shoulder to back up.

My door swings open and I slam on the brakes.

"Hey!"

He reaches over me and unbuckles my seat belt. I catch a whiff of his hair and skin. God, he smells clean like soap and sweet like fine wine.

I have no choice when he tugs on my arm but to pull my legs out from under the steering wheel and place them on the ground. It's awkward and my skirt flies open. He's not deterred. He scoops one arm under my knee and another behind my back. He grunts and tries to lift me out of my seat but I wiggle and make myself as heavy as possible. "No."

He doubles down and fixes his grip deeper around both legs and my back and hoists me out of my car.

I don't bother to say put me down because I know he won't. All I can do is growl to show my frustration. We clunk along until he walks into the elevator and my head falls back as he leans down to press the button.

"The thirty-fifth floor?" I ask him.

He looks down at me and smiles, pleased with himself for forcing me to do something I don't want to do. God, he's infuriating. His rock-hard body is strong enough to haul me around and hold me effortlessly for a long time. My butt is rubbing against his trousers and my side is plastered to his chest. He jostles me up higher so our faces are closer together and it forces air from my lungs that comes out in a clumsy grunt.

He grins and a smile escapes my lips, but I squash it down. I hate him!

Down a long hallway, he sets me on my feet in front of door 3503. He pushes in a key card and the lock beeps open.

With a stern frown on his lips, he signals for me to go inside first. The grin from the elevator is gone and his face is pinched tight.

It's a fabulous apartment. Angled windows made of large black rectangles frame a million-dollar view of the skyline over the Hudson. My gaze lands on a vibrant emerald-green velvet couch placed strategically to encourage gazing out the windows.

A deep shag contemporary rug with emerald and chartreuse swirls invites me to come run my toes over it. Small chartreuse accent pillows sit in the corners of the couch. An oversized leather recliner and a leather couch focused around a flat-screen TV occupy the entire living area.

His hand on my back guides me over to the emerald sectional and I don't fight him because I really want to feel the fabric. Oh, it's tufted and luxurious.

"You didn't decorate this place. Did you?"

He glances around and shrugs like it's nothing special. "No. "

He plops down next to me and props his elbow up on the back of the couch. "Are you going to marry him?" His brow furrows like he's been waiting to ask me that question for the entire evening.

"Foster…"

"Tell me. Are you really going to marry Renzo?" He stares into my eyes like everything depends on my answer when it truly doesn't.

"I don't see why I have to tell you either way."

"Are you going to marry him?" His voice drops to a growl. He's not screaming, but his hands shake like he would freak out if I give him the wrong answer.

"I don't have any choice."

His thick dark eyebrows curl up. "You have no choice?"

"My father wants it. Some kind of business deal."

"And you go along with it?" His volume rises.

"I have no—"

"You already fucking said that."

His anger makes me shirk back. "Stop shouting at me. I haven't even seen you in six months. Why do you care if I marry some old crony of my dad's?"

He inhales a deep breath and clasps his hands between his legs. "Do you love him? "

"He's too old for me."

"Do you love him?"

"No."

He runs his hands through his hair and rests his elbows on his knees. For the first time, he looks out at the view.

"Why are you working for my dad?" My turn to ask questions.

He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head.

"So you get to ask me about Renzo, but I can't ask you why you're working for my dad?"

Looking back over his shoulder, his dazzling green eyes measure me as he contemplates his response. Did the person who decorated this place pick emerald and chartreuse because those are the colors in his eyes? If the interior designer was a woman, no doubt she did. Shoot. I'm sure many men would find Foster's eyes inspirational and decorate entire neighborhoods in those colors.

No answer from him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the waiter Donnie pushed in the pool?"

"I'm not that kid anymore," he says quietly .

Okay. Now he's talking. "And what kind of man are you now, Foster? Because to me it looks like you used me to get to my dad."

He takes a deep breath and sighs. "I didn't use you to get close to your family." His mouth quirks into the most adorable lopsided grin. "I used your family to get close to you."

He used my…

Gah! Why does he have to be so handsome and charming? It's confusing as heck.

He used my family to get to me?

"Explain. And tell me everything."

"I tried to tell you then, but you didn't let me talk."

"Tell me now."

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out something shiny. The overhead light reflects off tiny charms on a bracelet as he holds it over his index finger with his thumb like it's a rosary.

When he doesn't talk anymore and his attention bounces from the bracelet to my eyes, I take a closer look.

Slightly worn enameled puppies dangle between dented pink and white pearls on a rusty silver link chain. It's familiar. I've seen it before.

"I used to have a bracelet just like that. "

He grins and looks down. "This is your bracelet," he says quietly, reverently. This means something to him.

"Why do you have it?"

He rubs the hairs at the base of his neck and shifts his legs around. "Give me a minute. This is hard as hell."

"All right."

We sit in silence for a beat. His chest rises with his deep breath in. "When Donnie pushed me in the pool, my glasses came off. I couldn't see. I didn't know how to swim. I was terrified." He turns his knees toward me and his eyes are worried. He's struggling with reliving the memory. "I realized I was in the shallow end, saw something on the step and grabbed it. It was your bracelet. My glasses were there too so I took them both in my panic. I got the hell out of the pool, ran out of the solarium and down to the catering tent. The owner of the catering company fired me right there, said he wouldn't pay me."

"Oh no."

He swallows and his Adam's apple rocks with the effort. "And when I looked up the slope, you were standing there. Your father and your brother surrounded you. Your dad looked furious. Your brother and Renzo mocked me by pretending to be drowning."

"I am so, so sorry for that." I hate that my brother and Renzo did that to him .

"I met Henry that night. He picked up my sopping-wet ass off the sidewalk and gave me a ride back to his place in Queens. When he found out I was homeless, he let me stay with him."

"You were homeless?"

His shoulders bend forward and he looks down. "For a while, yeah. Was trying to save up some money to get a place." His voice is quiet and sad.

He gradually inches closer to me. Our knees touch and I don't pull away. "I always wondered about you."

"On the ride to Queens, I told Henry how it all went down. He told me he'd help me to fight back next time I was bullied. He helped me get contacts and taught me karate. I worked out. I got bigger. I started winning tournaments."

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you. You look so different."

His chin lifts and he straightens his back. The confidence I'm used to seeing returns to his eyes. "I am different. So I had the bracelet all this time. I kept an eye on you on the internet, but you're sort of a quiet type for a girl who throws society parties." He takes my hand and places the bracelet in my palm.

"Yeah."

He curls my fingers around the bracelet and holds my closed fist in his warm hands. "Donnie showed up at a fight. He was taking bets. I knew he was your brother. I approached him and told him to come back again, I'd throw the fight for him."

"You did?"

He nods and then shakes his head, a wry grin on his lips. "I was just messing with him. I'd never throw a fight. I wanted to get back at him somehow, and I couldn't beat his ass unless he got in the ring."

"That's sneaky."

"I never expected him to show up with you." He lowers his chin and levels his eyes on me, which have grown darker as we talked.

Wait. This is all making sense now. "You winked at me."

He smiles and squeezes my hand tight. "You cheered for me."

"I did. I thought it was an amazing fight."

"I heard you screaming for help. Got that Rocco asshole off you and I realized it was my fault Rocco was angry at Donnie."

"No. It wasn't. Donnie shouldn't be making big bets on underground fights like that." Is that why Donnie asked me to go with him to the fight? He was making deals and wanted me there to attract guys like Rocco? No. Donnie makes bad decisions, but he'd never put me at risk like that. He's always saying how much he cares about me .

Foster lifts the bracelet from my hand, opens it, and fiddles with the clasp. He laughs when he can't get it open, but it's a tiny hook and clasp. Foster isn't deterred. He never is. He keeps trying until he gets the lock unfastened then wraps it around my wrist. Closing it is easier than opening it and he lets it go.

He looks at it on my wrist as he starts talking again. "After the hurricane, Donnie texted me. Asked me to deliver a package. I knew he was setting me up for something, but I did it. A connection to you."

"So you delivered drugs for him?"

"Yeah, but he set me up. He sent me to guys he owed money to. Every delivery was a fight for my life."

"Oh no. I had no idea Donnie owed so many people money."

He looks at me doubtfully like how could I not know this about my own brother? But he really doesn't tell me what he's doing most of the time. "Anyway, I earned Donnie's respect by winning all the fights against his enemies. He said his dad needed someone like me working for him. This was after they caught us in the pool. I was shocked."

"What do you do for him?"

He leans back and his arm wraps around my shoulders. We look out at the view for a minute before he shares more.

"I'm a collection agent. "

I sit up and stare at him. His face is totally serious. "For my dad?"

"Yep. His associates don't pay up, he sends me out to force it out of them."

That doesn't sound like him at all. "My dad's a commodities trader."

He shakes his head slowly from side to side. "I don't know the extent of what your dad is doing. I just know he has a lot of buddies on the streets who are dead scared of getting a call from me, and your dad pays me well to collect for him. It's big money."

God, this is all so hard to believe. "This sounds like a mobster movie."

"I don't know if your dad is in the Mafia. It looks to me like commodities trader is a cover for loan shark ." He makes air quotes around the words.

"This is so unreal."

"He has a lot going on you don't know about. He keeps it from you." He puts one knee up on the couch and turns to me as his hand moves behind my neck to caress the tender hairs there. It gives me a chill. "I know why you're afraid of the dark," he says, his voice soft.

"You do? "

"I know your brother was murdered. He didn't die in his sleep. Those guys talk about Ricky all the time."

My heart stops and my throat tightens. I can't do this. I can't talk about this.

"You're afraid it could happen to you," he continues, but I need him to stop right away.

"Please." I close my eyes and hold up my hands, palms facing him. The overwhelming grief has me paralyzed and on the verge of tears. "I can't take any more. I can't dig this deep. It's too painful and I'm already a mess learning all this about my dad and Donnie."

"Shh. I know," he says softly. "We'll stop for now." His fingers slip deeper into my hair and he presses his lips to my temple. It helps. Everything about Foster soothes me when I'm lost.

I'm not sure what he's telling me, but I truly believe he's being honest about caring about me. "So what we had last summer? It was real?" I ask him.

"It was the most real thing I've ever felt." His other hand reaches up and he trails the back of his fingers down my cheek. I reflexively lean into it. "I realized the girl I'd had a crush on my entire life turned out to be someone I could love."

I smile at him through blurry eyes. Love? He could love me? I thought for sure I could love him but we were cut off too soon .

"I knew if I got in good with your dad, I'd eventually see you again." He presses his forehead to mine and our breath mixes. My stomach pitches as he brushes his lips against mine. "Kiss you again."

I can't speak. I can't think. My entire world is his fingers in my hair and the force drawing our lips together.

His hand cups my head in his palm, the heat sinking into my scalp. His eyes warm and darken before he tilts his head and presses his lips gently to mine.

The heat from his lips radiates through my body until I'm hot all over. It feels right like it did last time. The excitement I felt when I kissed him before still bubbles in my tummy and I relish it. After so long, being kissed by him is a priceless treasure.

He slowly works his way over me and lowers my back to the couch. As his massive body presses me down, I whimper with the staggering sense of rightness. It's like I'd been waiting in line for my number to be called and now Foster is screaming " It's your turn " at me.

I know I should stop him, but we've both waited so long for this. Could this really be my turn? It would be easy to fall into bed with him, make love with him, and live the fantasy that is taking flight in my head. But I have to be more careful than that. I need more time to make sure this is real before we go that far. And my father is probably looking for me by now .

"I have to go." My voice strains to get the words out.

He kisses below my ear and the pressure of his hard cock pushes on my thigh. "Stay," he says in a sexy rasp.

God, I want to. He's irresistible. Everything about him calls to me. I would love to have sweaty sex with him, but reality awaits. "I left abruptly."

"So did I." He sounds so casual, but we really need to show ourselves.

"What was your excuse?" I ask him.

"I told him I needed to visit Sal Giordano."

"Are you gonna do that?"

"Eventually."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not really. I usually have the upper hand because they know they're in the wrong. They won't threaten me or they'll have to deal with your dad."

Images of my dad's associates threatening Foster swim in my head. The fading bruise and missing tooth are one thing, but he could get killed if he becomes too embroiled in my dad's business. "My dad has a gun. I saw it when Rocco attacked me in my room."

His head jerks back and he blinks several times. "What the hell? "

"Rocco attacked me in my room. Threatened me about Donnie again. My dad came in with a gun and actually shot it at him. He missed, but still. I was shocked my dad even has a gun."

He goes very still and his jaw clenches. "When?"

"I don't know. Shortly after the pool incident, I asked my dad about moving out. He said he wants me to live with him to keep me safe and a few days later Rocco broke in and threatened me."

A vein throbs in his neck and his whole body is stiff when I press my palms to his chest.

"Please let me up. It's hard to leave you, but he'll expect me home. It's my birthday."

He shakes himself out of whatever thought he was stuck in and his smile returns. "Happy birthday," he says with a soft voice. "Come back tomorrow and I'll give you your present." He presses his lips to mine.

Our lips brush as I shake my head.

"Come back tomorrow." His hand squeezes my hip, and his urgent lips on my neck send a tremor to my core.

"It's really hard to get away from him." His kisses are so enticing, but I have to go.

He grunts and turns to his side, resting his palm flat on my tummy. "Tell your dad you're not marrying Renzo. "

The thought of confronting my dad again makes my chest hurt. "I've told him before."

"Tell him you're with me."

"It won't go well." That's an understatement, but I don't want to hurt Foster's feelings.

"He likes me now," he says with a bit of humor in his voice, but it's not funny at all.

I hate to have to say it, but we need to have the truth between us. I stare up at the ceiling because I can't bear to see his face. "You're still not Italian and not from an influential family."

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. The chasm between us is growing huge.

We both sit up. He's quiet for a long time. His lips press into a thin line, and the warmth between us cools.

"You don't have any idea who killed your brother?" he asks out of the blue.

His mention of Ricky shoots a spear through my heart. "No," is my breathy whisper. "Please don't talk about it, Foster. It hurts too much."

He nods and pets my hair as he gazes into my eyes. "How 'bout your mom? You wonder how she died?"

His voice is gentle but his words pull the spear from my heart and cause bitter blood to spill out. "She had an unknown heart condition. I don't like to talk about it. "

"Maybe it's time you looked into your mother's and brother's deaths."

He's hitting me with painful memories I keep concealed inside a murky catacomb never to be unearthed. So much has happened in the last few hours. It's all too much to process. "I'm weak right now, Foster. Going through a rough time."

"I know." He twists my hair behind my ear and grins. "I need you to get stronger. I'll give you my strength."

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. "I'll talk to my dad about Renzo again. But give me some time before I tell him about us. This is all so new, and we don't know how it will work out."

His eyebrows pinch together and his forehead creases. His gaze moves from my eyes to my mouth like he's measuring me and deciding whether to give in or not. Finally, he nods. "I'll give you some time, Mila, if that's what you need, but not long. Soon, I'm gonna make my intentions known."

"What are your intentions?"

He grins and his eyes sparkle. "You're gonna be mine."

I have to bite my lip to hide my surprise and full-on smile. He wants me to be his. As much as I want that too… "It feels so impossible."

"The Unstoppable Foster never loses." He kisses me with his normal casual confidence .

"I hope you're right." I'm not sure of anything. This all feels so ephemeral and fragile.

"I am right. We will make it through this somehow. Together."

My eyes sting and a tear escapes my eye. "I have to go."

He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes as his thumb wipes the moisture from my cheek. "Your life is gonna get better. All these dark days will be a distant memory."

More tears are about to spill over, and I have to get up and get out of here before I totally collapse into one of my debilitating crying sessions. I don't want Foster to see me like that.

We break apart, and he holds my hand as he walks me down to my car. Before I get in, he presses me up against the back door of my Jetta. "Trust me on this one."

I look down and nod. I hope he's right. I really do.

"Trust me on this one and in the future. If shit comes up again, remember, I'm the one being honest and telling you the truth. All right?"

"Okay, Foster."

***

Back at home, I walk in on the guests sitting in the study drinking an after-dinner liquor .

"Mila!" My dad stands and walks over to give me a hug. "Are you all right? We were worried about you."

"I'm so sorry, Dad." I walk into the room and plaster on a smile worthy of an award. "I don't know what happened. I'm better now. I'm so happy you're all here for my birthday." My uncles and Donnie don't even look up from their collection of cigars on the table in front of them. Renzo and my aunts are offering me a stiff smile, attempting to be polite until they can return to their conversations.

"Sit next to me, sweetheart." My dad sits on the couch and pats the seat next to him.

Normally I would excuse myself and go to my room, but I've already acted suspiciously tonight. I have to stay and feign interest in their gossip and business chatter. I sit down and nod, but in my mind, I'm with Foster in his beautiful apartment with the green couch and view of the river. His hands are in my hair and he's telling me he's always thought of me. He's saying he's risked so much to be with me. He's saying my life is going to get better. It's not so hard to fake a smile when I think of those things.

Ten minutes later, Charlotte enters the room with a grand, three-tier birthday cake that looks more like a wedding cake. Everyone looks up from what they're doing and my father leads them in a round of "Tanti Auguiri a Te." After applause and another version of the song, I blow out the candles and make my secret wish.

" Please let Foster be right ."