Page 23 of Finding Love

“A little,” I admit. “I don’t want this to turn into a thing. You know, if I thought there was any way we could get out of it, I would.” I’m trying to be nice and smooth things over, but he only scowls.

“Of course you would,” he mutters with a bitter snort. “You would rather do anything than have people think you would debase yourself by being involved with me.” I can’t help but notice a sadness underneath all that bravado.

The thing is, he’s right, though he doesn’t need to throw it in my face. It isn’t my fault he chooses to live the way he does.

“You fucking knew there was danger, and you wanted to be with me, anyway. So what does that say about your high-and-mighty ass?” That nasty question hurled at me in rage has echoed in my head ever since. Could it be true? Could I have been with him despite the danger? Was this real for me?

Staring out the window, I watch the city go by in a blur. It’s midafternoon, and the sidewalks are clogged with people bundled up against icy winds that bring the smell of snow with them. I used to be part of all of that. I was a normal person with a normal life.

“What was my partner’s name again?” I ask since I was too overwhelmed to commit it to memory when I first asked back in the hospital.

He looks up at me, arching an eyebrow. “Craig. Do you remember anything about him?”

“Only that he exists. I can’t picture his face in my head.” Why does it sound like this amuses him?

“Spoiler… he was working for us all along.” When I can’t hide my surprise, he snickers. “You’re not a big fan of his. He’s been asking about you, though. Wanting to know if he can come and say hi, maybe jog your memory.”

“Why would I want to see him?” I ask out in disgust. A dirty cop. Then again, I guess I’m no better since I was supposedly in a relationship with this man and went as far as moving in with him. But Craig could give me a little insight into what I was doing when I met Luca. Or would he only lie to me because he’s on the family’s payroll?

Every time I answer a question, three more questions pop up.

That’s what is still on my mind hours later as I finish getting ready for a dinner I’ve been dreading. Makeup helps cover the thin, pink line on my cheek where somebody hit me hard enough to split the skin. I can almost remember that—the pain, the sudden shock. It’s like having a name on the tip of my tongue, and the harder I try to remember, the further away it gets.

I need to stop trying. That’s the problem. That’s why I remembered what I did when I was in bed with Luca. But do I want to? That’s the thing. What a shame we can’t decide what we want to take with us and what can dissolve into the ether.

I carefully pull on the wig and adjust it the way the woman did at the shop. The blonde waves cascade past my shoulders and look extremely natural. I toss them back and forth, a little giddy at finally having hair again.

“Are you almost ready?” I hear Luca before he enters the bedroom to find me standing in front of the mirror spanning the length of the dresser. He stops short, and I watch his reflection as he takes in the sight of me. “You’re beautiful,” he declares.

For the first time, there’s no lust or longing in that simple statement. He says it like it’s a simple fact. Somebody should tell him that’s a much more effective tactic at warming me up a little. “Thank you. And thank you again for this.” I run a hand over my new locks, grinning.

“I would do anything for you.” He clears his throat and straightens his blue necktie before straightening the lapels of his charcoal suit jacket.

Luca is drop-dead gorgeous, especially wearing a suit that was obviously made for him. Everything about him exudes wealth and confidence.

I wish there wasn’t that little voice inside me, warning me against staring for too long. A strange sense of yearning stirs in my chest, and I almost wish I could be who he needs me to be.

He’s a killer, you idiot—a fact I can’t afford to forget.

Once we’re in the car, I text Mom to let her know we’re on our way. “I hope neither of them notice the guards,” I murmur, one of so many concerns I have for tonight.

“It’s their job to fade into the background.” I wish I could feel as confident as he sounds. Something tells me tables full of men dining together in what’s supposed to be an intimate, even romantic restaurant might stick out a little.

I hope they’re good at their jobs, or else we might be screwed. My parents included.

I’m probably overthinking things, reacting out of dread.

I glance his way to find him staring at my legs. He doesn’t bother looking away when I notice. “You remember the story we’re telling?” I prompt, snapping my fingers when he doesn’t answer or acknowledge me.

“Do I remember?” he asks with a smirk. “I gave it to you. And it’s the truth.” But is it the full truth? I don’t know. I won’t until my memory returns.

My heart is thudding as we approach the restaurant. A couple of guys are hanging around near the front door, and I wonder if they’re Luca’s men. It’s freezing outside, and I have to remind myself that it’s their job before I feel sorry for them.

The cold takes my breath away as Luca helps me out of the car, or maybe it’s the touch of his hand. There’s no denying the physical pull he has on me. It’s strong enough that I could easily see myself straining upward for a kiss once we’re standing face-to-face—or almost, thanks to my heels. It almost feels natural.

Almost. My fears stop me yet again, and I pull back. “Ready?” I whisper, ignoring his brief frown.

“And if I said no?” Yet he walks me to the door, an arm around my waist, the image of a perfect gentleman as he escorts me inside to the hostess stand. Anyone would believe we’re a happy couple.

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