29. Fiora
My body is so sore I can barely get out of bed.
But I can't say I regret it. Something about me feels lighter. Better. Maybe finally having sex with Braken—without a mask, and without the games—took away all my tension. Now that I'm not wound up, I can see things more clearly.
I need to do something about Marco. That much is clear. Whenever I thought of him before, I would get this little smile on my face that, according to Jescie, "makes you look like an absolute doofus." I would get excited to see him, or even send him little texts during the day like our little secret. Now all I feel is a looming sense of dread at having to press the dial button to call him.
What changed? Was it taking a break and running off to Heathens Hollow to find myself? Or that he doesn't seem to care that I did? When I told him I needed to get away for a while, he seemed completely fine with that. He didn't even ask where I was going.
Not to mention all it took was a few sentences to have our relationship folding like a house of cards. Some of us have to work for a living. The sentence still makes me cringe.
Has everything he ever said to me been a lie? Does he really see me as nothing more than a Godwin? Papa paid for my schooling, but the hard work was all me. I earned a master's in Public Policy, all on my own, damnit, even when everyone told me it was a waste of time. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. But I always wanted to be just Fiora to someone. Not Fiora Godwin, not Braken's fiancée, not a pawn to use for political favor. Just Fiora.
Marco was supposed to be that someone, and now I have no one.
I can't tell if his refusal to help with Mason's death is clouding my judgment or if my feelings died the second he became like everyone else in my life. Realization strikes me like a lightning bolt and fries my nerves. The only person in my life really trying to help… is Braken. And maybe his buddies, if you count them wanting to keep me safe by watching over me. And Braken's hand was forced thanks to the agreement made by our fathers.
Fucking great.
This is something that needs to be discussed in person. I can't keep running forever. If I don't sort this out now, it will never get done.
Against my better judgment, I pick up my phone and dial Marco.
He answers on the fourth ring.
"Well, well, look who decided to finally talk to me," Marco drawls, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Remembered us plebs now that you're not surrounded by Daddy's money? Braken not wealthy enough?"
I thought I might feel hurt, but it pisses me off. God, he's like a child throwing a tantrum. I let him throw his worthless insults, knowing my silence and last night's events hurt him. This upcoming lunch, if he accepts, will be even worse.
"I'm sorry it's taken me so long," I say. "I think we left last night on the wrong foot."
"Oh, you think?"
"We should meet and talk."
"On your dime, right?" Marco lets out a biting laugh. "Since you're still a Godwin for a little while."
Marco has never spoken to me like this. It's disorienting. Maybe I'm not the only one who changed after our conversion at the burger joint.
I ward off my anger by gripping my bedsheets and drawing a deep breath. "Of course. You can pick whatever you'd like."
"Then I'll see you at Maxwells at noon. My days going to Heathens Hollow for you are over."
I slowly rise from bed to get ready. And once again, I need to figure out how to get back to Seattle without my men finding out and hunting me down.
I arriveat the restaurant first and am seated at a two-person table close to the front entrance. There isn't an empty seat in the house, the air filled with the spice of pasta sauce and the sweetness of afternoon wine. At least if anything goes wrong, I'll have plenty of witnesses. Papa won't be too happy if I start a scene in such a popular restaurant, though. I'll have to play my cards right.
I'm on my second glass of wine when Marco is escorted to the table.
And he's wearing the exact same outfit he was last night.
I try not to show any emotion as he slips into his seat. He's doing this to play with me. Either as a redo of last night or a reminder. As soon as he grabs his glass of wine and smirks, I know it's the latter. Have I been blind to who Marco Pollozo is for our entire friendship?
"Thank you for coming," I say.
"Of course." Marco takes a large swig of his drink. "I couldn't keep my favorite girl waiting. Or wait." He leans forward and mockingly says, "Wouldn't that make you a cheating whore?"
The words sting. Marco has never called me a name before, but it's certainly not the first time I've heard it. It will take much more than that to rattle me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I respond evenly and set down my drink.
Marco chuckles. "If you're going to be this stupid, you could at least take the ring off, Fiora. Or cover up your damn hickeys."
My hand freezes on the wine stem. Braken's engagement ring sits pretty on my finger, a flashy reminder that I'm a taken woman, just like the marks on my neck. I have nothing to be ashamed of, but my cheeks heat anyway. The story is bound to get out some time soon, but this is really fucking bad timing.
"You and I are not an item, Marco." I match his narrowed eyes. "In case you've forgotten, you never wanted to put a label on it."
"Ah, right, because this is all my fault," he mocks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Even in his best suit, tie, shoes, and expensive watch, he looks like a child playing dress-up rather than a near thirty-year-old man. "You're never blameless, are you?"
"What would I have blame for?"
"For fucking embarrassing me last night," Marco hisses, voice dangerously low. "I guess a little dick is all it takes for you to forget your manners."
If I didn't need to contain my anger, this expensive wine would be all over his face and suit. Instead, I have to drink it and pretend I'm not burning up on the inside.
"What I do is none of your business," I answer. "You embarrassed yourself by showing up uninvited."
Marco laughs so loudly, he catches the attention of the table next to us. "Uninvited. Right. Because that's all I am to the Godwins, isn't it? Dirt beneath your shoes."
"Dirt has a use, Marco," I shoot back, sliding my finished wine glass onto the table. "What good is a police officer who won't even look into a murder?"
"Fuck off, Fiora," Marco seethes. His entire face contorts in anger and makes me sit back in my seat. I've seen so many of Marco's emotions over the years. Pain after getting shot in the line of duty, sadness when a friend died in a shootout, but I've never seen this look. It's full of malice and hatred—all directed at me. "Why would I help you? You have to offer something to get something in return, and since you're used goods, you can't do shit for me."
Heat flames my entire neck and face. So that's all I am to him? A trophy to be conquered, a pussy to be had? If only I had more wine because I want to drown my stupidity in cabernet sauvignon.
"I can't get back all that time and effort I wasted on you," Marco spits, swirling his wine around in his glass. "So, I might as well enjoy the spoils, huh?"
That's rich, because I'm the one who wasted so much of my time and love on someone who only saw me as a means to an end.
"It seems we're in agreement then. A waste of time," I respond, dabbing my lips with my napkin. I already ordered appetizers for us, but I'm not in the mood to eat a meal with this asshole. "Enjoy it while you can."
"Right, 'cause you got a bit of rich dick and suddenly don't have time for anyone else anymore." His laugh is as icy as the glare he gives me. "I should have taken you when I had the chance. At least gotten something for my troubles. But no, I had to keep you pure for Daddy. After all that, I'm not good enough for you and Daddy anymore?"
A few of the patrons around us whisper and stare, and I try to block them out. I guess this is why he wanted to have lunch here. He merely wants to embarrass me and my family in front of people who know exactly who the Godwins are.
"You're a little slut, Fiora. That's all you are. Giving blowjobs to the first man who shows you attention."
Marco lifts his hand, and I instinctively flinch back. The murmuring grows louder around us, but it's drowned out by the rush of blood to my ears. I stare at the open palm he has above my head with wide eyes. Is he going to hit me? His hand is shaking with rage, and he flexes his hand into a fist above the flower centerpiece. Oh my God, he's going to punch me. He wouldn't… would he? His reputation would be ruined, and he'd miss out on the promotion he'd been working so hard for.
But the absolute fury radiating off him is unmistakable.
After a few tense seconds, Marco lowers his hand and lets out a bitter laugh. "Hitting you would be an even bigger waste."
"Do we have a problem here?" a man with a deep voice cuts in.
When I realize who it is, my fear becomes paralyzing. It's one of my father's men, who clearly just witnessed the entire scene. Shit, he's going to tell Papa that I'm with Marco. That I just embarrassed the family. That people are talking about us. What if there's a reporter here?
"No problem." Marco straightens out his suit jacket and flashes a smile. "I was just leaving. You gonna be okay without me, Fiora?"
If my father finds out about this…
And if Braken finds out about this?—
Fuck, Braken can't find out about this. At least not from anyone but me. This could look like something it isn't.
I swallow down my fear of being in the middle of an explosive scene and nod once. I don't bother with the usual response. I don't think my voice would come out correctly if I tried.
Marco takes the time to drain the rest of his wine before he tilts the empty glass in my direction as a parting greeting. He stomps out of the restaurant to stares and whispers while I sit there in shock. My father's man says something to me that I brush off. I must nip this in the bud before I'm dead by twilight.
As soon as I'm alone, I pull out my phone and for the first time ever, shoot a text to Braken.
I need to see you right now.