“I don’t like crying; I’m guessing I got that from you, too?” I joke into my father’s chest because it’s sure better than blubbering.
“Ehh, probably your mom. I tend to bawl pretty easily, snot and all,” he jokes back, holding me while I dry my eyes.
“Henley, I know you feel betrayed, and that Sailor could have been hurt. But she’s fine. What’s not okay is you carryin’ the weight of the world on your shoulders. And I gotta tell you, that man may have fucked up, but he had no problem rightin’ a wrong, took it like a brother would, too. If he weren’t Italian, Shovel would have tried to recruit him. I’m thinking’, though, Massimo may need you, maybe even Dante, okay?” Well, son of a bitch, my dad knows just the right words to say when all I really want to do is burrow beneath the covers and let myself cry away the day.
“What did you do? Promise me you didn’t hurt him too badly if Dante needs me?” I pull away, mentally cataloguing what could happen.
“Dante is fine. Can’t say the same for Massimo, though. I figure you’ll need this.” Dad let’s go of me, puts a business card on the counter, kisses my forehead, and then leaves without saying another word. Which, of course, puts the ball in my court. I’ve already got the card in my hand, flipping it over, finding the address, already knowing exactly where I’m headed the second I put on clothes that don’t look like I’ve lived in them all week.
CHAPTER 18
HENLEY
I’m sitting outside Massimo’s freaking castle. Okay, maybe it’s not really a castle, more like a mansion. He has a guard at the gate, much like we have at the club, but that’s where the similarities end. His home is probably three stories high, brick stonework, black windows, and nothing but green grass as far as the eye can see.
I pull my phone out after having already talked to Sailor before coming, wanting her to know if she wasn’t okay with me pursuing a relationship of any kind with Massimo, I wouldn’t. It was Jackson who said they’d be fine, another man in my life who shocked me all in one day. So, I text the family group chat one last time to be on the safe side.
Me: This is okay, right? Like, our family, club included.
Dad: Sweet pea, go take care of the poor Italian.
Mom: Love is rocky. You have our love and support.
Sailor: Girl, you only live once. Plus, it’s not Massimo who did the word we won’t be speaking of ever again.
Jackson: Dude, man up.
I laugh. Leave it to my family. All of them have their own warped sense of humor. It’s probably why we all get along so well. Every single one of us is a nut job of some kind. The knocking on my window jars me from letting out my own giggle. I’ve yet to take my seatbelt off. The car is in park and off; it’s just getting out of the vehicle that seems to be the issue.
“Shit, you scared me.” I open the door but realize I’m still strapped in. I roll my eyes like the loon I am, unclick the belt, and take his hand to step out of my car.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” I didn’t dress for the occasion at all. If anything, I went with comfort and not holding anymore secrets, which means no wig. The tufts of hair are wild any other day; today, they just happen to be uncontrollable. The head wrap I put on gives me a bit of flare that makes me feel cute and fashionable. I’ve paired it with an off-the-shoulder shirt, cream in color, oversized. The jean shorts are probably too short, but it’s what I had, and I’m comfortable.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes, the slight limp in how he’s standing.
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t come by sooner. I’ve been laying low lately, giving you time, too. I assume your father told you we talked?” he asks. I grab my purse, throwing my phone and keys in.
“He did. I’m pretty sure it’s you and me who should talk more than him talking to me, though.” I look around and see a man posted outside, a cane in his hand, but he’s not using it.
“Boss?” We’re slowly walking up towards the door.
“I don’t need that pussy stick.” I snicker, even though I’m concerned about Massimo and the limp that’s progressively getting worse.
“You think passing out in front of your lady or falling, breaking a hip, is going to make you look any better?”
“Marco.” Massimo sneers his name. I decide to intervene. “I’ll take that. Thank you for looking out for the stubborn bear of a man.”
“Thank you, Miss Matthews.” I take it in my hand then push it into Massimo’s.