Page 72 of One Love

“No more space, Little Demon. Told you I was making dinner for my girls, and Stefano arranged all the ingredients I’ll need already.” Stefano is Marco and River’s house manager, but really, he’s more than that. He’s a very close family friend and used to be the underboss to Marco’s father back in the day. Fora man of his distinction, he’s a fucking ninja with the ability to appear out of nowhere. “Now, you, ride that beautiful ass back to Marco’s place. I’ll see you there.” He offloads me onto my Harley, lifting my helmet from where it sits on the tank and sliding it over my head. Then he opens the visor and awkwardly kisses my nose before slamming it shut again.

My muffled response of protest goes unheard as he begins humming to himself and walking to his own motorcycle, picking up his helmet and sliding it on. Damn, he looks sexy with a helmet on. I wonder if he’d keep it on to fuck me sometime?

It’s just as well he doesn’t hear my protests, because I know he wouldn’t pay attention anyway. Here he goes again…pushing me. Challenging me.

And I hate myself for loving it so damn much.

The warehouse is cold this morning, a chill in the air as I walk into the torture room alone while Dmitry has gone to get breakfast kolache. I’m fucking addicted to the pastry.

Petey is dead, his limbs limper than usual, his skin so pale it’s almost see-through, and I slide my gaze over to Ronan. He’s so close to death it’s not even fun anymore. I don’t want him to pass peacefully in his sleep.

“Wake up!” My yell echoes around the room, stirring Ronan, and his eyes slowly open into dark slits.

His mouth is so dry and cracked he can barely move it, so I pick up one of the water bottles from the cabinet in the corner of the room. I do the usual, pouring it over his head, watching his tongue poke out and his mouth open as he tries to get as much of it down his throat as possible—it’s not a lot. He’s sofucking pathetic. I’m done with spending my time making sure he’s suffering. I’d rather be spending it with Hallie. As much as she loves spending time with River and Polo while I’m working, I control my own hours. Which is just another reason I should just fucking end this douche now.

“Wh…B-b-b-itch…”

“Yes, I am.” I laugh, a dark lilt to the tone, pulling a knife from my hip and oh-so-slowly dragging the blade across Ronan’s throat. I don’t go deep enough to make his death quick, enjoying watching him struggle, moving his head from side to side, gurgling incoherent noises. Blood falls from the wound, covering his throat and his already-dirty white shirt, dripping down into the cesspit of his waste.

It takes about two minutes for the light to finally leave his eyes, and the satisfaction of how much he’s suffered over the last six days makes me happy that Dmitry is on his way with food…and his cock.

Chapter Twenty-Three

D

“Wait, that makes no sense,” Hallie says as she lays out the oversized blanket on the recently-cut grass in Central Park. I demanded—that’s right, I demanded and survived—that J let Hallie spend some quality time with her newly found step-dad. She may have growled and threatened my balls on a few occasions if I dared say those words to her daughter. Apparently, I’m the only one ready for a family around here. That’s okay, it’s only been a month since this little teenage hellion has returned and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. Now, July in The City? That’s a whole other beast.

“It’s marketing genius all the way back to nineteen seventy-nine. An epic space opera. Focus on the ‘epic’.” I flop down onto the blanket after placing the bag full of munchies Stefano prepared for us. That man is a godsend. A little creepy with his sudden appearances, and I’m convinced at this point that there are secret passages all around the Mancini mansion, but I may try to bribe him to come live with us. Although, our kolache breakfast tradition will stay exactly as it is.

“But why didn’t they just make the first movie and then move on from there? All this does is confuse people.”

Clearly, I need to be more convincing with my explanations.

As people begin to gather around, taking up more and more space around us, I turn to Hallie and put on my serious face, ignoring the recoils of the good folk of New York when they see my scar. I’m used to it but I don’t want it to be a problem for my step-daughter. Fuck, I love the sound of that. Okay, one thing at a time.

“Episodes one, two, and three were filmed and put out after episodes four, five and six. Chronologically, the story doesn’t match the real-time filming. I’m guessing it has to do with not anticipating the absolute masterpieces they were making.”

Hallie rolls her eyes and bites into an apple. I frown.

“Please tell me he’s put unhealthy snacks in there.” Rummaging through the bag, I find fruit, nuts, and…are those raisins? I shudder.

“Nope. Stefano doesn’t believe in unhealthy snacks.”

My expression must be hilarious because Hallie starts giggling around a mouthful of apple. I’m not joking. Stefano’s invitation is officially revoked.

No unhealthy snacks. What is this? We’re in America, dammit. Snacking is our God-given right.

Reaching into my private emergency stash, I pull out a jumbo-sized pack of Twizzlers and grin. “Good thing I’m always prepared.” We smile at each other and, in that moment, a little thread of gold is weaved between us, creating our own little bond.

“To be honest, I’m more of aStar Trekfan. Chris Pine is so hot.”

My head snaps to the side as I stare, dumbfounded, at her.

“You can’t…he’s not…That’s not how this works, Hallie. You can’t just choose a side based on an actor’s looks. There’s aphilosophy to it all, a conscious choice to stand with the rebels and fight dictatorships all across the universe.” Okay, I may be getting a little animated here, my hands moving like I’m suddenly one hundred percent Italian and my voice rising to an octave from the time before my balls dropped. “And to be clear, Harrison Ford was also hot.” I think?

“Eww, he’s old.” A string of Twizzler is getting chomped by her front teeth as she speaks like she isn’t destroying my soul.

“No, Hallie. He’s…timeless.” I may have to revisit this whole step-dad thing. There’s a chance I’m awful at it.

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