Page 34 of Merciless Attraction

I just hope we can make all of this go away. Once the mayhem dies down, me and Antonio can see what’s left of our relationship. Hell, with all of the bullshit, I’ll be surprised if he wants to keep someone like me in his life. All Marzano’s do is bring stress and chaos wherever we go. He deserves peace. I only hope he gets it with me still by his side.

Chapter 14: Antonio

It’s one thing after another and I can’t help the anger building inside of me. I’m not mad at Gemma. Crossing paths with her on a random night with Ronan isn’t to blame for my decision to get involved with the Marzano family once again. Choosing to save her from Frankie isn’t her fault, and dismembering Frankie is just a necessary part of what’s happening.

My mind continues to drift down this rabbit hole of why I make the choices I make as I help Gemma pack her bags into my car. Shit. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. This isn’t right. Gemma doesn’t deserve to pay for the sins of her brothers or mine.

We’re fighting enemies on both sides and not knowing the one coming from Gemma’s past has me on high alert. I can’t stop scanning the street, wondering if the asshole from the garage is watching from afar. Or what if Verducci has one of his minions lying in wait?

“We need to get off the street,” I tell Gemma as she loads a duffle bag into the back seat.

“This is the last one,” she says with a look over her shoulder. Natalie and Damian come out of the house each carrying large suitcases. They load them into the car behind mine while Casper and Bash stand guard, diligently watching the street as we get into our cars to leave.

Gemma and Natalie take a moment to say their goodbyes. There’s something special about their friendship. While Natalie isn’t explicitly a part of any mob, everything about the way she’s handling this situation shows she’s not a stranger to this way of life. She’s not easily scared off and isn’t afraid to handle a dead body.

I notice the tears welling in their eyes as they part, but Gemma’s stoic gaze returns when she notices her brothers are watching. The moment we’re alone in my car, Gemma lets a sigh escape her lips.

“I wish we could go to Vegas with them.” Gemma pouts with her eyes glued to the scenery passing by.

“That’s not a bad idea. If Frankie hadn’t run off, we could leave.” I glance at the screen nestled in my dashboard, slightly paranoid that someone’s listening to us. I put my finger to my lips and point toward it for Gemma to see why I’m skirting around the truth.

She moves her head up and down slowly in agreement. “Thanks for letting me stay with you until the security system is put in. Do you mind if I take care of dinner tonight? I truly want to thank you for all of this. Don’t say I don’t have to. Let me do something nice for you.”

I agree to let Gemma have her way in my kitchen. After we make a stop to pick up some groceries, we head back to my place and pull into the underground garage of my building. I can’t stop my heart from racing. There shouldn’t be anyone waiting to ambush us, but I’m on high alert. The silence of the garage doesn’t help as I head toward a storage closet beside the elevator entrance.

One of the amenities is having a closet for the tenants who need a cart or hand truck to bring large packages and bags to their unit. I send Gemma upstairs to my condo and take my time loading the rest of her things and the groceries into a cart.

By the time I step inside my condo, Gemma’s playing music from her phone while rummaging through my cabinets. There’s so much joy and peace in her energy as we move together to unpack her stuff and the food.

“There’s a closet in my office where we can put most of your stuff,” I tell her, walking through the space separating my open kitchen from the living room.

“The entire space under your bedroom is your office?” she asks.

I push open a door beside the office door. “There’s a bathroom here, but for the most part it’s where I work. I had the space closed in a few months after I moved in. I can catch up on notes, patients, and harass some of my med school alum for donations to the hospital.”

The smile stops spreading across my face when I remember I don’t have that job anymore. It seems my loyalty doesn’t go as far as I expect it should. No matter what happens, I tend to give more than I receive to people whose loyalties are fragile in comparison.

“Are you okay, Antonio?” Gemma’s question cuts into my thoughts.

“I’m wondering what’s going to happen after all this dies down. I want to keep practicing, but I’m not sure if that’s even an option.”

Gemma moves around the kitchen, sorting through the groceries and making room on the countertop. Her eyes move from me to the pile of flour where a few eggs sit inside of a well she made with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, Antonio.”

“What are you making?” I ask her. I don’t want to dwell on a future that’s no longer what I imagined it to be.

“Homemade pasta. Lasagna to be exact.”

“What can I do to help? I know you said you wanted to do this to thank me, but I need to keep my hands busy.”

She smiles and nudges her chin toward a bowl of ingredients. “You can help me with the sauce. I think I got everything, tomatoes, garlic, onions, herbs.”

We work together to bring her dinner to life with music playing and our minds far away from the death and chaos. There’s a moment when we switch spots for me to knead the dough while Gemma tends to the sauce. It feels right, like this is how we were always supposed to be.

The more I work the dough the more I’m able to get some aggression out of my system. It’s therapeutic in a way I never pictured.

“Don’t overwork that dough,” Gemma warns while stirring. She pulls a wooden spoon out of the mixture simmering on the stove and blows on it before offering it to me. Piping hot, but delicious as it warms me from the inside out.

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