15. Tilly

Chapter fifteen

Tilly

I navigate through the sea of faces, recognizing most as family, though a few are strangers—likely my father's top clients, as he rarely fraternized beyond business dealings. The indifferent or fleeting glances from them barely register; my focus is solely on locating my Aunt, who I know will likely be positioned near the jazz ensemble at the front.

My assumption proves correct when her figure, along with three of my younger cousins, comes into view. The sight nearly earns an eye roll from me. She's sitting in a different chair than the rest of us. Plastic isn't meant for royalty, after all, and her chin is lifted like she's sneering at everyone. Hell, she probably is. The cousins are loitering behind her like the twenty-something wannabe bodyguards they are. Were they expecting some sort of hit at this memorial? The family does dabble in illegal dealings, but I mean, come on, she's not in danger around us.

Fucking idiots, I think as I approach their table. My cousins, Don, Justin, and Keaton, are so beyond entitled it's nearly laughable. With suits that look straight from some gangster movie and slicked-back hair, I'm suddenly sure that's what they want. Nothing says ‘mob prince' like black Armani paired with a three-hundred-dollar haircut. They're a trio I mentally dub the three stooges. Half because they are morons, and half because of the wrestling matches they indulged in as kids. Poking eyes, kicking each other in the nads, and whoopie cushions were all part of their normal repertoire. Spurring my hatred more, I know they are probably the ones that trashed my apartment.

As I approach, Tia whispers something to them, and they leave her side. Thank fuck. I have no interest in playing nice with any of them. But Keaton, the leader of the little squad of imbeciles, gives me a sardonic grin. "New dress?"

Refusing to be bullied, I stand up straighter. "It is, and it's beautiful, no? Thankfully, someone encouraged me to update my entire wardrobe recently."

His face goes stoic, but rage flashes through his eyes. "Joke if you want, Matilda. We all know who's gonna have the last laugh." He bumps my shoulder with his as he walks past, occasionally glancing over his shoulder with the same furious glare as he does. God, what I wouldn't give for a shootable taser right now. You know the ones the cops use when alleged crooks go on the run? I'd aim it right between Keaton's eyes. No, wait! The nads. Yes. Keaton needs a taser shot straight to the gonial sandbags.

When I reach the table, Tia, looking positively resplendent in her sequined purple gown, stands to greet me with an air of aristocratic coolness. Say what you want about my aunt, but she certainly knows how to dress to impress.

Showtime , I think to myself and hurry forward. "Tia!" I say, feigning all the enthusiasm I can muster and peck her on the cheek. "It's so good to see you," I lie.

"Indeed, it is, Matilda. Have a seat."

I do as I'm told for once. As soon as we're both sitting, a waiter presents us with wine, the jazz music playing a louder backdrop to our table. Tia is studying me with unwavering scrutiny, and I resist the urge to smooth my dress.

"You know our family's policy on tattoos, Matilda." Oh lord, of course she's already digging in her claws. My fucking tattoos, being as they are on my body, are none of her damn business. But of course, she just had to say something. It's her own way of trying to tilt the conversation into her power immediately. Not going to work, you evil wench.

"I do, but seeing as how I don't work for the family, I figured it doesn't matter."

Tia shakes her head, raising her glass to her lips. "Even if you did, I doubt you would follow the rules. That never was your forte."

I try to muster up a laugh, but it comes out as a bit of a choking noise. Tia ignores it and takes a sip of her drink, her eyes scanning the crowd. "Have you come to tell me something?"

"I came to support my sister. Dad's death hit her harder than she lets on."

Tia nods. "For all of us, I think. My brother was an incredible businessman."

It's the nicest thing anyone could say about the man, in my opinion. He was harsh and cruel but did make a great business leader. "I hear you own a surf shop in San Diego."

I try to hide my surprise, but my eyebrows shoot up anyway. "Erm, not really."

"But your name is on the small business loan, or your fake name, I should say."

Pursing my lips, I try to come up with a more diplomatic response than the ‘fuck off' that's on the tip of my tongue. "It's my real name now. I changed it ten years ago. And the loan doesn't mean I have any say, I was helping out a friend."

"San Diego is a great city. Don't you think?" There's something in her tone that tells me to be as careful as possible. Something deeper is going on, and I'm certain I won't like it.

"It is," I manage to say.

"I've been wanting to visit for some time. I could use some sunshine. I would love to come by your store."

I swallow hard. Not a chance in hell, lady. But I have to play the situation carefully.

"I'd love to have you. But I'll need to clear it with my boss. She's a little uptight since marrying an FBI agent." Boom! Take that, you fanatical mob boss! Saying FBI is like a firehose on the campfire that is my aunt's nefarious business practices.

But Tia doesn't react to what I thought was my ace in the hole. "Former FBI agent," she says with a smirk. I almost swear aloud.

"Tia, I don't want to be rude, but whatever you're thinking, it won't work. I told my father a long time ago—"

"Your father was weak when it came to you. I assure you, I will not be as swayed. You're a part of the Cardenas family, Matilda. Whether you change your name or not." My voice catches in my throat, and Tia continues, "He allowed you to sow your wild oats, but the plan was always for you to take up a spot when you were old enough."

I shake my head. "Tia—"

"The surf shop is an opportunity. One that can't be overlooked, Matilda." I've heard enough. I get up, my fists clenched at my sides, ready to explode on my aunt. But powerful hands settle on my shoulders. I look up and see Tommy standing over me.

Oh no. "Tommy? What're you doing?" My voice is held at a panicked whisper, but he just smiles.

Holding out his hand, he turns the charm onto my aunt. "Thomas Hillcrest, you must be the aunt everyone is raving about." He's flashing a full-tooth smile, but Tia doesn't take his hand. She rises to her feet, like she's the queen of fucking England. I half expect her to shout out, ‘off with his head!'

"Yes, the boyfriend," she says, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes. "I must insist that my niece and I—"

Tommy holds up a hand. I almost snatch it back down. No one interrupts the head of the Cardenas family. No one. "I'm really sorry, but Til, my mom is waiting on us. Did you say all your goodbyes?"

I wince, but Tia has already caught the words. "Ah yes, the mother with the catering company. Elegant Solutions? Right?"

Tommy eyes the woman carefully. "Erm, yeah. But she's expecting us, so we should probably go. Lasagna doesn't keep, you know?"

Tia's jaw tightens. "Matilda, you will stay for dinner and some dancing. Your father deserves that at least. If this man needs to leave, that is his prerogative."

The order hits hard. I don't take well to demands. Ever. But this is Tommy. He might not understand the veiled threats, but I certainly do.

I swallow down every curse word I want to scream at my aunt. "Ms. Hillcrest will just have to wait, babe. I'm sure dinner will be lovely here." I lean forward and give my aunt another kiss on the cheek. Our argument is far from finished, but I've endured enough for the moment.

Before Tommy can argue further, I interlace our fingers and stride away from my aunt's table. I cast a look over my shoulder and see that the three stooges have descended on my aunt, and the four are watching us carefully. It's the perfect family portrait, at least of them. They look like they're waiting for the final kill order. Especially Keaton, he's licking his lips like a dog about to devour a sacrificial lamb. Not today, buddy. Not my Tommy. I'm getting him the hell out of here. Straight out of OK Corral, no Peacemaker gun necessary. Although, maybe I really should buy that taser.

I don't slow down. I pull Tommy straight through the crowd and into the women's restroom before locking the door behind us.

I fling around with both hands raised. "I fucking told you to stay away from her! What were you thinking?"

Tommy recoils, his shoulders shrug with wide eyes. "You looked scared, Til! How am I supposed to just leave that alone?"

"Because I asked you to! This isn't some little family drama. You can't possibly understand how dangerous it is to let these people know who you are. Damn it, Tommy! And mentioning your mother? Are you really that dense?"

He lowers his brows. "My mother? Tia sounded—"

"Tia is a conniving siren! How do you not see that? Swear to God, Tommy, she was threatening your mom."

Tommy's face droops and pales. "Why?"

I throw my arms up. How is he not understanding? "Because this is not a family and this is certainly not a memorial! This is like the mob version of a corporate retreat. Seriously, blackmail and shakedowns are like trust falls for these assholes."

He's rubbing the hair on top of his head, looking at the ground in shame. "What are they going to do?"

I throw my hands up, exasperated, even though I know it's probably not fair. I can read between the lines of my aunt's words, but really, Tommy shouldn't be able to. I take a calming breath. "They want to use the surf shop to launder money and now, she's saying if I don't do it, she's going to set her sights on your mother's company!" Admitting it aloud feels freeing and draining at the same time. Moisture is building in my eyes, and I try to shake them away. When it becomes apparent that that's not going to happen, I spin around, covering my mouth with my hand. Don't cry, Tilly. Don't. Fucking. Cry. This family, this awful, dick licker of a relationship I have with my aunt shouldn't be able to draw tears from me.

"Tilly…" His voice is soft, and I shake my head.

"Don't, Tommy."

But he doesn't listen. He never fucking listens to me. His arms wrap around me from behind, and my eyes close. He rocks us both back and forth for a few minutes, a calm sway that helps my heart rate slow. It feels so right to have his powerful hands on me. Safe, almost.

He spins me around and lifts my chin with his hand; my hands wrap around his back, pressing our stomachs together.

His rugged features are carved with concern. "I'm sorry," he whispers. The apology paints his earnest face. He looks younger somehow, more vulnerable. He never should have come. I knew that just like I know that he needs to leave. Now. Tia didn't really get a chance to sink her teeth into him yet. If he stays, that might change. Who knows what Keaton is truly capable of? With Tia's goading, I can only guess.

Shoving away from him, I shake my head. "You should go, Tommy."

We stare at each other for a long moment, before he glances at the ground and mumbles a curse word. "I don't want to," he says. It sounds almost childish.

I close my eyes, wishing like hell it could be different. Without opening them, I say, "Please, just go."

He huffs out a long breath but I hear the door open behind me, then close with finality that I hate.