Claiming What's Mine Page 16

  I turn my head and meet his gaze, fascinated by what he’s telling me.

  “You have to know that the CPD, along with the FBI, have detectives and agents whose sole jobs are to keep tabs on the Valentinis. That didn’t start with me, and it won’t end there either.”

  I nod stiffly.

  Of course, I know that. My father is hauled downtown every so often and brought up on charges, but there’s never enough evidence for an indictment. Which only makes the DA’s office more desperate to nail anyone in my family. After decades of Enzo Valentini slipping through their fingers, they’re out for blood.

  And Roman is a part of their effort.

  “I was chosen to infiltrate the organization, get close to your brothers, and make contact with Enzo.”

  Done listening to him, I lash out with, “When my father finds out about this, he’ll kill you with his bare hands. Nothing you’ve said has changed my mind. Do us both a favor and let me go.”

  He ignores me and continues his story. “I started out with small jobs, proving myself as I went along. It took two years until I caught Enzo’s attention and was allowed in the same room with him. For some odd reason, your father took an interest in me. He brought me into his inner circle and gradually handed over more responsibility and power.”

  “Yes,” I bite out. “You proved your loyalty and were handsomely rewarded for it.”

  Roman exhales a long, slow breath and nods. “I’ve been working with Enzo and your brothers at the compound ever since. At first, I focused on my mission. I never forgot why I was there. I noted which illegal activities the Valentinis were engaged in and documented anything that could help build a case against Enzo. I periodically reported back to my handler, supplying proof whenever possible.”

  I seethe, wanting to scream and howl in rage. I’m not oblivious. I’ve never lived in a bubble. I know my father frequently conducts business deals on the wrong side of the law. I’m the first one to acknowledge that.

  It’s why I changed my name and distanced myself from the Cosa Nostra.

  But that doesn’t mean I want to see Papa get sent to prison. He’s my father. And he’s been a kind, loving one. I’ll protect him any way I can.

  “Since I’ve been working at the compound, I’ve gotten to know your father on a more personal level. Not as Enzo Valentini, the infamous crime boss, but as a man. A husband. A father. A friend. When I prepared to go undercover, I never expected to feel conflicted or guilty about finishing out this assignment. The same with your brothers. They’ve taken me in, accepted me, and made me a part of their family. They’ve treated me like one of their own.”

  Another droplet leaks from the corner of my eye. Yes, that’s exactly what my family has done. They made Roman one of their own. And they would fight and die for him.

  Roman’s eyes pin mine in place. “And then there’s you, Sofia. I could have steeled myself against their kindness and kinship and focused on the task at hand if it hadn’t been for you.”

  That makes no sense. He’s never been anything but cold and distant with me.

  “I don’t understand,” I mutter.

  He chuckles, but it’s self-depreciating in nature. “Christ, princess, I knew you’d be the death of me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  I’ve always hated when he called me that. But now it feels like an endearment instead of an insult.

  “You crawled under my skin and inside my head, and I haven’t been able to get you out since.” He rests his forehead on mine again. “I tried so damn hard to fight the feelings you stirred in me.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to feel the confusion that’s starting to seep in at the edges. This issue, Roman’s betrayal, is black and white. When my family finds out, there will be no shades of gray.

  My eyes flutter open. “Roman…”

  “I know,” he whispers. “Trust me, baby, I know. The goal was clear when I began working for your family. But the lines blurred over time, and now, being a cop,” he pauses, a stricken expression on his face, “feels like the lie.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

  A naked vulnerability I’ve never seen flashes across his face. It tears me up inside. I’m struck with the urge to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. To comfort him. To tell him that everything will be all right. But I don’t. As much as I long to, I can’t. This man has endangered the people I care about most, and that is one transgression I can’t forgive.

  Fortifying everything inside me, I say, “You need to let me go.”

  His body stays stretched out over mine, and I fleetingly wonder if he’ll allow me to leave or hold me captive indefinitely. But then, one by one, he removes his fingers from my wrists.

  Uncomfortable with the intimacy of our position, I whisper, “Please, Roman, you have to let me go. I’ve listened to everything you had to say.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t make a difference. You betrayed us. What you’ve done is unforgivable.”

  His lips hover over mine. He looks ready to kiss me, but instead jerks away and rolls off the bed in one fluid motion.

  I sit up and gently massage my wrists.

  A bleak light fills his eyes. “I never meant to cause you pain.

  He’s talking about so much more than my wrists.

  “I know.”

  Maybe I’m a fool, but I want to believe all of Roman’s claims. I want to believe that he cares for my father, mother, and brothers.

  That he cares about me.

  It won’t change anything, but I really want to believe that he’s conflicted. Confused.

  Watching him guardedly, I rise naked from the bed. I need to get dressed and leave. It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and torn to shreds. I’ve never felt this kind of agony before.

  What am I going to tell my parents?

  Dread fills me at the thought of breaking this news to them.

  My clothes are in a pile on the floor. Other than a bed and dresser, the room is sparse and barren. Just like the entire apartment.

  I’m not sure why it matters, but I ask anyway. “Is this really where you live?”

  His shoulders fall. “No. I couldn’t have anything traceable—”

  “To your real life,” I finish for him, pain lancing me again.

  He nods once.

  No longer comfortable with being naked in front of him, I yank my T-shirt over my head and drag my panties up my thighs. My heart twists as another thought takes root. “Santori isn’t your last name, is it?”

  His eyes flash with sorrow. “No.”

  Oh my God. Everything about Roman is a carefully constructed lie. I never knew this man at all.

  Humiliation over being so easily duped scalds my cheeks. “What is it?”

  Glancing away, he drags a hand over his scalp. “Please understand that I can’t give you that information.”

  Tears of frustration fill my eyes as mirthless laughter falls from my lips. “Of course, you can’t. No need for honesty at this late stage in the game.” I haul my jeans up my thighs, zipping and buttoning them with trembling fingers.

  “Can we just sit down and talk about this?” His voice drops. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m sorry about that. For everything.”

  I blink back the tears and shake my head. “No. There’s nothing more to say.”

  Relief rushes through me when he doesn’t argue. I’m holding on to my control by a hair. My brain is swimming in everything I’ve just discovered. Drowning. I can’t take any more revelations.

  “I’ll drive you home.” Going to the dresser, he throws on boxers, a shirt, and jeans.

  “I’d prefer to call a cab.”

  He dips his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll take care of it. But I’ll be behind you the entire way because you still need protection, Sofia.”

  Right. I almost forgot about the Russians.

  This isn’t a battle I’m going to wage
right now. “Fine.” I need to get away from him.

  When the cab arrives, we silently descend to the ground floor and head outside. He opens a back door, and I slide inside. There’s nothing left to say, and that feels gut-wrenching.

  Instead of closing the door, he leans inside and looks me in the eyes. Then his mouth crashes into mine. My lips part under his insistent pressure and his tongue delves into my mouth, stealing both my good sense and willpower in one fell swoop.

  The cabbie clears his throat and mutters something under his breath.

  I plant my hands on Roman’s chest and shove him away. Gasping for breath, my fingers fly to my mouth.

  He bends until his face hovers over mine. “I spent three years fighting my feelings for you. You pushed and pushed every step of the way, never giving me a moment of relief. You may not realize it, but you’re mine now, princess, and I’ll be damned if I let you walk away.”

  My breath stalls in my lungs.

  Moistening my lips, I whisper, “I—I need time to think.”

  He nods. “I get that there’s a lot for you to wrap your head around. And I’m willing to give you the time you need to resign yourself to the situation. But we’re not done hashing this out. You and me, we’re not over. Not by a long shot.”

  With those parting words, Roman steps back. He closes the door and raps his knuckles on the roof.

  We pull away from the curb and into traffic before I can react.

  My mind is a chaotic mess. I have no idea what I’m going to do. If this were anyone else, there wouldn’t be a question as to the appropriate course of action. I would call my father immediately and divulge every last detail.

  But…

  I can’t do that.

  Because this isn’t just anyone. It’s Roman.

  Roman San—

  No.

  Not Roman Santori.

  I have no idea what his name is. I don’t even know if Roman is his first name.

  I bury my face in my hands because every second I keep this secret from my family is a moment longer they’re in danger.

  Chapter Thirty

  Groaning, I roll toward the alarm clock and slap it.

  My eyelids feel like they’ve been cemented shut. Prying them open takes a Herculean effort. Unable to force my limbs into action, I lay in bed as memories of yesterday assault me.

  Roman is an undercover police officer.

  Never in a million years could I have foreseen this. If anything, I’d wondered if he worked for the Russians.

  But the police?

  The Chicago PD?

  No. I feel completely blindsided by the revelation. What am I going to do? Acknowledging what a mess this situation is makes me burrow deeper under the covers, wishing I could stay in bed for the rest of the day. Maybe the next few. I had a difficult time falling asleep after getting home because my mind wouldn’t click off. As a result, I feel tired and irritable.

  I would love to call in sick, but can’t.

  Two parent meetings and an IEP are on my agenda for today. These parents have rearranged their schedules to come in and discuss their children’s educational needs, which means I have to pull myself together and act like the professional I pride myself on being. I’ll figure out what recourse to take with Roman afterward.

  It’s not a matter of if I tell my family about what I’ve discovered. It’s when.

  When the alarm goes off a second time, I groan, roll out of bed, and get dressed. I trudge into the bathroom and wince after catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like I’ve been put through the wringer. Purplish bruises sit under my eyes. My normally olive-toned skin is pasty. Applying makeup helps, but doesn’t work miracles.

  My gut feels like it’s been twisted into a series of complicated knots. I should eat something before heading out the door, but I have no appetite.

  Last night’s conversation with Roman echoes through my brain. Even after hearing the truth directly from him, I still find it difficult to accept.

  Walking into the kitchen, I stifle a scream as I find the man I was just thinking about sitting at the table with two cups of steaming coffee in front of him.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, nowhere near ready to face him yet.

  “I was hoping we could talk.”

  The ever-present attraction that hums between us sparks to life, leaving me even more unsettled.

  Roman is a traitor.

  My father will more than likely kill him. That thought alone makes my blood turn into ice. As angry as I am with Roman, I don’t want him dead.

  I shove aside my conflicting feelings and rub my temples to stave off the headache brewing behind them. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this with you right now.” Exhaustion has my emotions prickling much too close to the surface. I need time to rein them in and settle down.

  “Let me drive you to work,” he cajoles, “we can talk in the car.”

  I grimace at the idea of being trapped inside a vehicle with him for fifteen minutes. If anyone’s capable of breaking me down, it’s this man. I have to protect the tattered pieces of my heart. “No, I don’t want to be alone with you.”

  He slides one of the to-go cups to the middle of the table. He knows I usually start my day off with coffee. Two packets of sugar and a creamer rest on the plastic lid. It doesn’t escape me that this is precisely the way I like it.

  I’ve craved his undivided attention for so long. And now that I have it, I feel like I’m going to come right out of my skin. It’s laughable.

  To keep my hands busy, I add the cream and sugar to my cup. I catch a whiff of freshly roasted beans while lifting it to my lips. It’s normally an aroma that I suck in greedily. It wakes me up and puts me in a good mood. This time, however, I’m hit with a wave of intense nausea. Fingers shaking, I set the cup down as my belly pitches and roils.

  “Sofia?” Roman’s brows beetle together. “What’s wrong?”

  Inhaling a deep breath, I flatten my hand against my tummy. “Nothing. I’m just not in the mood for coffee this morning.”

  It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if these terrible feelings are the aftereffect of last night’s emotional upheaval. Lack of sleep and anxiety can be an unpleasant tonic. Working in the counseling profession, I know better than most the toll stress can take on your body.

  “We need to finish discussing our situation at some point,” Roman says.

  That may be true, but I can’t handle an emotionally charged conversation with him this morning. Not before work. And not when I feel so raw.

  “You dropped a major bomb on me,” I snap. “You have no right to come in here and expect me to have already processed everything in a few short hours. I’m sorry, but I need more time.”

  “I know.” He glances down at his coffee. “I told my superiors weeks ago that I couldn’t continue this assignment. They’ve been working to pull me out. Five years is a long time, too long to be undercover.”

  Grasping the back of a chair, I lower myself down as another stark realization dawns. In a harsh whisper, I accuse, “That’s why you put an expiration date on our relationship, isn’t it?”

  God, I’m such an idiot.

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  A fresh wave of anger hits me. “You were going to disappear without saying a word, weren’t you?”

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel more pissed off and hurt, but the shards of pain stabbing through me prove otherwise. After sleeping in each other’s arms and making love all hours of the night the last few weeks, he was going to disappear without so much as a goodbye.

  “What else was I supposed to do?” he retorts, aggravation crackling his voice. “You were never meant to discover that I was anyone other than Roman Santori, the guy who worked for your father. We weren’t supposed to get involved.”

  I blink back tears, refusing to let him see how much he’s shattered me. “You should have done us both a favor and never given in.”

  He scrubs a hand
over his face. “Don’t you think I know that?” he asks in a low, ugly snarl. “Don’t you think I fought my feelings every single goddamn day? Every fucking moment was a battle. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. You have to believe that.”

  Unable to listen any more, I stand. “I don’t know what to believe. I need to get to work.”

  “I expected you to call Enzo last night.” He tilts his head. “Why didn’t you?”

  I look away.

  That’s an excellent question. One I’ve asked myself a million times already. I should have called my father right after getting in the cab.

  Papa would have snapped up Roman by now.

  Which is precisely why I didn’t do anything.

  Because I can’t sentence the man I love to death.

  My shoulders slump as I acknowledge my own truths. This delay doesn’t mean I won’t tell my family. It just means I haven’t placed that call yet. I’d hoped Roman would tell his superiors that his cover had been blown and disappear off the face of the earth.

  But he’s here, sitting in my kitchen.

  Ignoring his question, I ask, “Why did you come back?”

  “I told you last night that I wasn’t going to leave you.” He straightens his shoulders. “I won’t go underground.”

  My already cracked heart shudders. How can I believe anything he says?

  Roman has already proven himself to be an adept liar.

  I take a step back, then another, until I’m at the doorway leading to the front hall. “That’s exactly what you need to do. You need to leave.” I gulp and add, “And don’t ever return. I can’t keep this kind of information a secret from my father. I won’t risk the safety of my family.”