Page 24 of On Ice

Once more shame washes over me, but I shove it away. I don’t agree with her. Evan enjoyed our night together. It’s not like I tortured him all night. He was a hundred percent on board with me. He loved the sex. Hell, I loved the sex. It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my thoughts from going any further.

“Anyway,” I say gruffly, “I’ll need this guy’s name, Isabella.”

She hesitates, biting her bottom lip.

“You said you wanted him to pay,” I nudge. “I have to know who he is.” If she won’t tell me, I’ll still find the guy. But it’s easier if she just hands over the name.

“I know his name,” Marco volunteers.

Isabella scowls at him. “Excuse me?”

His lips twitch. “What? I just happened to be at Paul’s Pizza the same time you were there with him. It was coincidence.”

She narrows her eyes. “How would eating at the same restaurant equal you knowing his name?”

Marco looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “I may or may not have seen his credit card receipt.”

Tony laughs. “Purely by coincidence?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Marco grabs an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter. He bites into it as Isabella glares at him, but he seems unperturbed.

“Did you follow me?” she demands.

“No, I told you, it was an accident.” He takes another bite of apple, looking very pleased with himself.

Isabella turns to me. “Luca, that isn’t right of him to follow me. That’s completely out of line. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m an adult and I deserve privacy.”

“Yeah, come on, Marco. That was way out of line.” I have to hide my true feelings on the matter because, in truth, I’m very proud of my boy Marco. With Isabella’s horrible taste in men, she needs watching, whether she knows it or not.

Marco sighs. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry. Not even a little.

“You really are so annoying, Marco,” grumbles Isabella, but to be honest, she doesn’t appear that upset anymore. She almost looks flattered.

“Luca,” Mama says, “You’re staying to dinner, right?” I appreciate that she pretends it’s an option. We both know I’m not allowed to leave. Anytime Isabella has one of her romantic meltdowns, we make a family night of it.

“Of course.” I incline my head. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from one of your spaghetti sauce nights, Mama.”

Marco brightens. “Am I invited to stay for dinner?”

Mama laughs. “As if you don’t already know that.” She shakes her head and returns to the stove to start the pasta. “Luca, go get a good bottle of red wine from the cellar.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I go to the door that’s just off the kitchen, where narrow steps lead down to the wine cellar.

The cool air hits me as I reach the bottom of the wine cellar, a welcome relief from the heat of the kitchen upstairs. The scentof oak and aged cork lingers, mingling with the faint, earthy aroma of stone walls. The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the neatly arranged racks that line the walls.

I run my fingers over the labels, their raised text familiar under my touch. Château Margaux might be too bold for tonight. I crouch down and spot a bottle of Pine Ridge Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon, 2018. The bottle is a deep, glossy black, the label understated but elegant. I grab the bottle, holding it up to the light.

My father was a wine connoisseur, and I studied wine in an effort to impress him. Unfortunately, being who he was, he never acknowledged my expertise. I’ll never know if he was hiding his feelings or simply didn’t have any on the matter. I’m nowhere near settling down, but if that day ever comes, and I have kids, I plan to be a very different kind of father. I don’t expect fatherhood to come naturally to me, but my one wish is that my children never question whether I loved them.

I frown at those unusually sappy thoughts. “Where did that come from?” I mutter, returning to the stairs with my bottle of wine.

This new heartbreak of Isabella’s has put me in a weird mood. Seeing her pain has forced me to examine my behavior with Evan. I don’t regret buying the team to use for my gambling activities, or threatening Evan into throwing games. But sleeping with Evan was never in my original plan. It was when I watched him play against the Bay City Blazers that the thought of seducing him came to me.

I didn’t even feel bad about it until I saw Isabella looking so broken hearted. Being the head of a syndicate doesn’t require me to be empathetic. I need to be decisive and brutal, but empathy doesn’t usually play much of a role in my line of work. If I startedhaving sympathy for every slob I had to handle, that could be a real problem.

So, yeah, I can admit I crossed the line with Evan, and that probably wasn’t nice. But I’m not about to apologize. I don’t do apologies to anyone but my family, and even then, they’re as rare as a two-headed goldfish. It’s not really my fault he trusted me. Yes, he had no reasonnotto trust me, but still. He’s an adult.

I shrug. “He should have known better than to assume I was a good guy.”

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