Page 33 of Crimson Fate
“Really?” Relief floods through me, though it’s tinged with confusion at her tone.
“Really,” she affirms, but her brown eyes hold a hardness that wasn’t there before. Is it disappointment? Anger? The unreadable expression sends a ripple of uncertainty through me.
“Thank you, Eva.” I reach out, my hand hesitating midair before dropping back to my side. The space between us feels like a chasm suddenly too vast to cross.
“Of course.” Her quick smile is practiced and doesn’t reach her eyes. “You should always celebrate love, right?”
“Right,” I echo, but the word tastes like ash in my mouth. Why do I feel like I’ve just lost something precious, something I never knew I had? “Everything alright?”
She nods a little too quickly. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ll see you later.”
“You don’t want to stay and have some of this dinner with me?” I ask, though her abrupt departure sends alarms ringing in my head.
She shakes her head. “I just remembered I have something to take care of.”
I watch, helpless to stop her. Once she’s gone, I take the dish to the kitchen and heat the oven as instructed—a simple task that gives my hands something to do while my mind races. Eva’s reaction to planning my engagement dinner with Gia wasn’t what I’d expected.
I lean against the countertop, arms crossed over my chest. Is she lonely? Does she resent me for finding someone when she’s still single? Maybe she’s jealous. The thought nags at me, poking at my conscience. Should I play matchmaker? That’s Amelia’s department, and even the thought of it makes me cringe, but Marco’s been noticing Eva for a while, so maybe—
No. I shake my head. Eva’s not just another woman to be paired off for convenience. She’s strong and independent. She deserves more than this world can offer her. She should find someone with no ties to the Mafia, someone who could give her sunshine instead of gunpowder and blood money.
I slide the dish into the oven once it’s ready and set the timer. While it heats, I pour myself a drink, letting the smooth liquor burn down my throat, trying to wash away the unease. But it lingers, staining my thoughts like red wine on white linen. As I lean back against the counter, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve taken Eva’s presence for granted. If maybe, just maybe, her agitation isn’t about being alone at all.
Maybe it’s about us—about me.
And that’s an unsettling thought because it means facing a truth I’ve kept buried under layers of loyalty and friendship: that the idea of Eva wanting anyone else leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, far worse than any liquor.
“Dammit, Eva,” I mutter to the empty room, “what are you doing to me?”
Chapter Thirteen
I slide the last cuff link into place. The mirror reflects a man dressed to kill, literally and figuratively, but it’s not the reflection that has my stomach knotting—it’s the memory of Eva’s stormy eyes, ablaze with an emotion I can’t afford to decipher right now. I shove the thought aside, where it belongs, in the vault of things to deal with later.
Gia. That’s where my focus needs to be—on Gia and the getaway that’s been looming all week. The prospect of what could unfurl between us in Jersey makes my pulse race.
“Vincent.” Marco’s voice slices through my reverie, his shadow spilling across the polished floorboards as he steps into the room.
“Marco.” I acknowledge him without turning as I finish my meticulous preparations. “You’re early.”
His presence carries a weight, a tension that curls in the air like cigarette smoke. “I need to talk to you before we leave.”
“Shoot.” I motion him forward with a jerk of my head, finally facing him.
He hesitates, the crease in his brow deepening. “I’d rather not go to Jersey with you and Gia if that’s okay with you.”
“Come again?” I frown, thrown off by his reluctance. Marco is my right hand, so his unease sends ripples of concern through me.
Pacing a short path on the hardwood floor, his hands clasped behind his back, he explains, “It’s just... I have this bad feeling about leaving things unattended here, especially with Lorenzo DeLuca stirring shit up with the captains.”
“The fact that Lorenzo is breathing down our necks is the exact reason I need you with us,” I say, my voice firm but laced with an edge of frustration. “If something happens, there is nobody I would trust more to have at my side.”
Marco’s eyes lock with mine, a silent battle raging between his loyalty and his instincts. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the restlessness evident in his every move.
“You really think you need me there to babysit?”
I can’t help but let out a short, humorless chuckle. “It’s not about babysitting; it’s about trust. You’re my best man.”
He sighs, running a hand through his slicked-back hair, and finally nods, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. If you want me there, you know I will be there, but I felt like I needed to tell you I think it’s a mistake.” I don’t respond to his sentiment as I continue mulling it over. Marco adds, “What’s even going on with you and Gia? Are you two actually an item?”