Page 10 of Lie to Me

Nothing good can come from this, so why is he so hell bent on dragging up the past? Why now? Why?

My mind screams at me as I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up his contact that’s been sitting in my phone for the last week. The contact that I definitely haven’t stared at each night, trying to force myself to delete the number and move on with my life once and for all. I have no control of my fingers as they move across the keyboard, but apparently, they’ve made up their mind for me on whether or not I’d be using the number.

I don’t know why you want to talk, but I don’t think I can right now. Maybe someday.

Chapter Five

Sloane

Past - March 2014

Three days after myhighlyembarrassing night of drunken stupidity, Marco picks me up from the corner of the estate where there’s no cameras.

I’ve been sneaking out of the house for years, so I knew it was safe for him to pick me up from there. I sneak a glance at him from the corner of my eye, taking in the way he lounges back in the seat as he drives.

Considering how freaking put together he usually seems, he certainly doesn’t drive like it. I expected him to be a stickler for the rules (I know, I know the family he belongs to and obviously he breaks the law regularly) but I figured he’d be one of thosesafety-firstkind of drivers. I certainly didn’t expect himto ignore every single speed limit and drive like he’s a fucking NASCAR driver.

On the bright side, he has quick reflexes and seems to manage following my directions as I instruct him on where to go. After an hour’s drive, we pull up to the wooded area and I slide out of the car before he could come and open the door. Clearly, he didn’t like that if the tick in his jaw is anything to go by, but he lets it go.

He motions for me to go ahead, and I start walking. We walk in comfortable silence, not feeling the need to fill it in with small talk. One thing I’ve gathered over the years of seeing Marco at events and such is that he prefers to observe rather than converse. Though, he seems a lot more himself and chatty when it’s just the two of us. We never seem to run out of things to talk about when we’re texting, considering we’ve messaged back and forth every day for the last month.

We reach our destination, and I take a seat on the bench that looks out over the city. My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid and she thought it’d be safer for us to be out of the house. Finn used to get dragged into whatever the hell it was my father was up to, but me and my mom we’re basically left to fend for ourselves most of the time, and she didn’t like me being around my father’s men.

“It’s peaceful up here, looking down at the chaos,” Marco says and it’s the first time we’ve spoken since I got into his car.

“Mom used to bring me here. I always loved looking down at the city, it seems smaller from up here, somehow.”

“You were close?” he asks.

My lips tip up in a small smile. “We were the only women in my family, that left us to our own devices most of the time.”

“You’ve been alone since the accident, huh?”

He doesn’t say he’s sorry for my loss, or any other useless platitudes that people tend to dole out when they mention herdeath. He knows as well as I do that an apology won’t make a damn bit of difference.

His mom died when his younger brother was born, so he knows pain, too. My mom died three years ago in a car accident, caused by a storm. I think it would have been easier if her death was related to my father’s business, because at least then I’d have someone to blame.

“I have Finn. We’re a lot closer than people think. Since my father doesn’t like us spending too much time together, we have to keep up those appearances, but he’s my rock.” I don’t know why the hell I’m telling him this. If my father found out I was telling Salvatore Romano’s son our family business, he’d probably have me killed.

“I’m glad you have him,” he says and takes my hand in his, still staring out at the city. The sun is disappearing over the horizon, casting the sky in an orangish hue. “Tell me about your mom?”

“She was my best friend. My father hated the fact that she was American and not Irish, and that she passed her looks onto me and Finn. The only reason he married her was because he knocked her up and refused to have illegitimate children. He told her she could choose my name, since I’m a girl and nothing will ever come of me, but it had to be an Irish name. She used to tell me that she called me Sloane because it meant warrior, and because she knew I would be strong enough to get out from under his clutches. She said she knew I’d be able to do what she couldn’t.” I keep my gaze on the view, trying to blink back tears.

“It felt like my whole world was ending when she died,” I rasp as my body trembles.

Marco wraps his arms around me and positions me so I’m tucked against him, my head buried in his chest and his arms are a steel trap around my body, warding off the tremors.

“Little warrior,” he murmurs against my hair. “I like that.” He presses a kiss to the side of my head and just lets me feel. Hedoesn’t say it’s going to be okay, he doesn’t try and get me to stop; he just lets me feel what I need to. He lets me get it all out.

Once I finally pull myself together, I peer up at him from under wet lashes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t apologize to me, little warrior. Never for that.”

Needing to change the topic to something less heavy, I take a gamble to see if he’ll keep playing our game. “Lie to me.”

He stares down at me while he holds me in his arms, seeming to be debating something with himself before he finally whispers, “I really,reallydon’t want to kiss you right now.”

“Yeah,” I say dryly. “I’d hate that.”

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