Page 20 of Beautiful Evidence

"We’re not." Not friends, not lovers, not even acquaintances. He's managing my life like he owns me right now, but it isn't even by my father's direct order. I was a fool to trust him, but here we are.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes crawl by—long enough for the tea to cool and for Rosa to start fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. Her lectures about cutting myself off from my father more completely aren't just white noise, and I’ve just started to think maybe he won’t come when there’s a knock on the door.

Rosa stiffens. Her eyes go wide as I rise and cross to the peephole. It's Vincenzo, and not a moment too soon.

I pull the door open wider and step aside. "Come in," I say gruffly. It isn't ideal to introduce Rosa to men like him, and Iknow what she'll think when she sees the tattoos creeping out of his collar. But he came because I called him.

Vincenzo steps inside with his usual dominant posture, scanning the apartment instinctively. Rosa stands behind me, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.

"Aunt Rosa," I say, turning to her with a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, "this is Vincenzo Morelli. He’s… helping me."

Rosa doesn’t offer her hand, but she nods once. "Then he can sit, and you can both stop pretending he's just a kind, helpful stranger." She glares at me knowingly, and I tense.

My shoulders are stiff and I can't make eye contact with her due to shame. She has kept her whole life away from this and I've dragged it right to her doorstep. I didn't mean it this way. I was just afraid.

Vincenzo's expression is unreadable as he says, "Thank you."

He follows me into the living room after I lock up and lowers himself onto the edge of the chair across from me. I sit again too and pick up the tea out of nervous habit. Rosa shifts in her seat and folds her hands in front of herself as Enzo starts talking to me.

"You want to tell me about the police summons, or should I guess?" He doesn't beat around the bush at all, does he? I heave out a sigh as Rosa's eyes lift to look at me in concern.

I bite back a curse. "You have people reading my emails now?" I snap, heat flaring in my chest.

"I have people keeping you alive. Big difference." He doesn’t flinch when he says it, but he does hold a calming hand outtoward my aunt who has no clue what she's even overhearing right now.

"We shouldn't be talking about this now. It's not why I asked you to come." Humiliation dusts my cheeks as I set the tea I'm clearly not going to drink down and hug my arms over my belly.

"No," he says, leaning closer. "I’m here because you haven’t made a decision yet." His eyes search mine like he’s trying to pin me in place. I glance at Aunt Rosa nervously again, but she's staring at her hands now. I know that posture too. She's scared. She knows this could come back to bite her. I hate that I've dragged her even an inch closer to my father's world.

"About what?" I ask, though I continue flicking glances at my aunt hoping Enzo will get the point.

"Whose side you’re on." His voice is unbending and rigid. He frowns and turns to Aunt Rosa, but she looks up and glares.

Rosa glares at us, waving a hand like we’re school kids. "Enough. If you’re going to fight, do it outside." Rosa points her spoon at us like it’s a weapon. Then she sighs and retreats to the kitchen where I hear pots and pans clattering.

"You think I want her to be in the middle of this?" I hiss through clenched teeth. "Fuck's sake, Vincenzo."

"I can respect that you’re trying to protect her," he says in a lower tone. "It's something Gordo would never have done. But you are smack dab in the center. The only question left is whether you survive it." He leans forward slightly and carefully moves my tea mug from the edge of the table.

I hate how right he is and how deeply it cuts that I can't deny it. "So, what, I cover it up? Lie? Pretend a man didn’t gettortured and dumped?" My voice rises and cracks. "Pretend my father isn't a murdering thief and a traitor?" I stutter-breathe at the open confession, though I doubt Rosa heard me. Everyone knows what my father is like, but I've never been put on trial to defend him and I've never had a situation where my life depended on whether I told the truth regarding his crimes.

He doesn’t flinch. "You tell them what keeps you breathing. That’s the job now." His words are ice cold and wrap around me, chilling me to my core. "It'syourlife that's in your hands, not his."

"You’re asking me to betray everything I’ve worked for." I stand and take a step back, suddenly aware of the space—or lack of it—between us as he rises and stalks toward me.

"I’m telling you that your principles don’t mean much if you’re in a body bag." His voice is so quiet now, it scares me. The silence after that is thick. He doesn’t back down, and I don’t have a good enough argument to chase him out now. Besides, who will give me a safe ride home? Those idiots could be waiting for me anywhere.

From the kitchen, Rosa calls, "Either kiss or kill each other. Just leave before more of his type come looking," Rosa calls from the kitchen, completely unfazed.

My cheeks burn.

Vincenzo’s eyes stay locked on mine. "We’re not done," he growls softly, then he takes me by the elbow as I roll my eyes.

"No," I say. "We never are." I let him drag me toward the door, but I feel scared shitless now.

And God help me, I don’t even know what I'll do when I show up to that summons and thepoliziastart asking me questions.

12

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