Be With Me: Chapter 43

My fist slammed into the bag, and a sting of pain shot up my forearm. I didn’t catch a goddamn wink of sleep after I left Mia last night, and I’d been in the home gym for two hours.

There was too much pent-up energy in me, too much tension, and it had to go somewhere.

Mia knew everything now. Everything. I’d cut myself open and let her sift through my insides.

I couldn’t fucking believe I’d told her. It was reckless.

That story? It was supposed to die with me. But I told it anyway, thinking out of desperation maybe it would make her realize she was better off without me.

I was ready for that. For her disgust. For her to walk away.

But I’d braced for the wrong thing.

She still wanted me. And I had no fucking clue how to handle her compassion.

It shook something loose inside me. Rattled the foundations of my world. Made me feel weak, and that was so much worse.

The past belonged in the past. There was a reason I never revisited it. There was no point. You couldn’t change it. And trying to reframe it—to assign new meanings and put different labels on things—made me question my role in it all.

Was I the victim? Or the one who let it happen?

Nah. I wasn’t a goddamn victim.

“Fuck!” Another strike sent a sharper pain through my arm. I stepped back from the bag, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

My phone rang from the bench. The screen lit up with Cosimo’s name.

I answered on speaker. “Yeah?”

“We got the Colombian contract,” he said. “Alvarez negotiated an extra ten percent out of us, but whatever. Nothing major in the grand scheme.”

I flexed my hands, wincing at the dull ache. “Congrats. How’d you pull it off?”

“Flew down there yesterday. Three-hour meeting. Explained to Alvarez how with Messero and us joining ranks, it’ll take the authorities a long time to stop us from moving product—that is, if they even have a case. Meanwhile, the other options they’ve been considering won’t stand a chance. I made it clear we’d put every resource into taking them down. Called their so-called safer bet a goddamn fantasy.”

“You didn’t think to use that angle earlier?”

“I did. But I didn’t know who the other buyer was until now. Once I had a name, I could paint a better picture. Show them exactly how fucked they’d be if they went with them.”

“You got a name?” I hadn’t brought up the Finger Lakes connection to Mia. With everything going on, it wasn’t exactly top of mind.

“Yeah. The Santoros.”

The name lit something faint in the back of my brain. “Sounds familiar…”

“They were big in New York decades ago,” Cos said. “Lost a war to the Riccis about thirty years back. Got run out of the city.”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “What the hell do they want with us? We weren’t even part of that war.”

“No fucking clue. This whole thing’s sketchy. They’ve been dormant for decades, but it looks like they’ve rebuilt and are making a move. They think they’ve got the connections to make it work, but they’re wrong. I told Alvarez their story’s bullshit.”

“You think the Santoros have tricked him somehow? Why even consider them?”

“Fuck if I know. Alvarez doesn’t overshare, but he listened to me. After a whole hour talking to his team behind closed doors, he came out saying they’re going with us.”

“You already told Dad?”

“He’s pleased. Mom too.”

Just the mention of our mother put me back on edge.

I was done listening to her. Done doing her bidding.

I should have stopped a long time ago. But it wasn’t until I revisited that summer—and saw Mia’s reaction—that it finally landed.

If I didn’t want to follow Mother’s orders anymore, I didn’t fucking have to. What was she going to do to me? Berate me? Glower at me? Ban me from the fucking family for defying her?

Let her try. If it came down to it, my brothers would have my back.

When I was a kid, she seemed all-powerful. Towering. Infallible.

But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and whatever power she still had over me… I was the only one giving it to her.

“I think Dad knows something about the Santoros,” Cos said, pulling me back. “But he’s keeping his mouth shut. Wouldn’t tell me anything.”

I frowned. “The fuck?”

“I’m going to try to get more out of him tonight. They want to celebrate. Mom’s already got the staff calling family, setting everything up. Party’s at seven. You’re expected to be there.”

“I’ll be there.”

The Santoro family. It was a power play—a way for them to claw their way back into the city. But something didn’t add up.

Should I call Mia and ask her about who her father met at the Finger Lakes?

If the Santoros were also backing Morales, this was even more convoluted.

She probably didn’t want to hear from me, but if her father was tangled up with people like this, I needed to make sure she was protected. That she wouldn’t get caught in the fallout.

I swiped my palm down my face.

Or maybe I was just looking for an excuse to hear her voice again.

The penthouse was already packed with family by the time I showed up.

After months of feeling like the axe was about to drop, we finally had something to celebrate.

Everyone was in a good mood. Everyone except me.

Unease ate at me as I stood by the unlit fireplace, watching my cousin Joe shove bruschetta into his mouth. Mia calling me a victim had made me irate. At the time, I’d felt nothing but rage. But after two hours of beating the hell out of that punching bag, regret had started to creep in.

Every time I slipped my hand into my pocket, my fingers instinctively searched for the lip gloss I’d stupidly left behind by the hotel sink.

That had been before I came out of the bathroom, when I’d been sure she’d be gone.

Only, she wasn’t.

The whole time I was with her, I’d agonized over how to keep her.

And she’d offered me a chance to figure it out.

If I hadn’t lost my shit, things could’ve gone very differently.

She had hope.

All I had was fear.

Coward.

“Jesus,” Cosimo muttered, appearing at my side. “You look like someone pissed in your drink.”

My response was a dismissive grunt.

“This got something to do with the Morales girl?”

I eyed him. “Why would it?”

“You looked like you wanted to fucking murder Mom when she asked you to tape her.”

My grip tightened around the glass in my hand. “I’m not seeing her anymore.”

“No?”

“But no one’s going to fucking touch her unless they want a gun shoved down their throat.”

Cosimo adjusted his watch, chuckling. “Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“You went from seeing her, to not seeing her but acting like her guard dog. Care to explain?”

“Not really.” Truth was, I could’ve used some advice. But opening that door meant unpacking a lot of shit I wasn’t ready for.

His voice dropped lower. “What Mom asked you to do crossed a line. What did she mean when she said you’ve done worse?”

Annoyance crackled over my nape at his prying, but when I caught his gaze, something in his eyes diffused it. A hint of concern.

I remembered our conversation at The Golden Circle dinner. More accurately, the conversation he’d tried to have, one I’d intentionally dodged.

Even after telling Mia, the idea of sharing the worst night of my life and everything that led up to it with another person made me sick.

Shame, guilt, and something even colder churned inside my stomach.

You. Can’t. Be. Weak.

Since that night, I’d built walls around every part of me that could be broken, that could hurt.

Walls that protected me and kept everyone out.

But Mia broke through. And as fucking vulnerable as her seeing me made me feel, it gave me faith, for the first time, that things could change.

That maybe, I didn’t have to be bad for her.

Tell him.

My eyes scanned around the room. I wanted to, but there were too many people around. “It’s not the right time to get into it. Let’s talk later.”

He studied me for a bit longer, then nodded. “Sounds good.” He sipped his drink. “Had a chance to talk to Dad yet?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“Fuck,” he muttered with a laugh. “Look what Aunt Lisa brought.”

Our aunt had just stepped into the living room, cradling a bonsai tree like it was a newborn.

I chuckled. “Dad’s going to be thrilled. One more for his collection.”

Cosimo swiped a palm over his mouth. “That thing looks heavy as hell.”

“Let’s go help before she drops it.” We weaved through the crowd, making our way over.

“Zia, are you trying to butter up Dad?” I teased as I lifted the tree from her arms.

“Oh, you’re a blessing, Rom,” she panted, pulling out a handkerchief to dab her forehead. Her face was flushed from exertion. “I wanted to get him something to mark the occasion. I wasn’t sure I’d make it up here with that thing.”

“Where’s your husband?” Cos asked.

“He’s under the weather,” she said. “Told him to sleep it off instead of spreading his flu to everyone.”

I nodded at the tree. “We’ll take this to Dad’s office for you.”

She gave me a quick smile, but her attention seemed elsewhere. Her eyes flicked between me and the party behind me. “Thanks. I’ve got to grab a tray of ziti from the car. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out toward the foyer, glancing back once before disappearing down the hall.

The tree was heavier than it looked. Cosimo held the office door open for me as I hauled it in and set it on an empty spot on the windowsill between the other bonsais already there. We were about to leave when Dad walked in, Alessio behind him.

Dad’s gaze went straight to the tree. “What’s this?”

“A gift from Zia Lisa,” I replied, stepping aside to give him room.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. He approached the tree, inspected it briefly, then turned to us. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the sofas. “I need to have a word with you boys.”

Cosimo and I exchanged a look. This had to be about the Santoros.

Finally, we were going to get some answers.

“Anyone need a drink?” I asked. When no one replied, I walked to the small bar in the corner and grabbed a glass. The tumblers Dad broke a few days ago had been replaced.

Les and Cos sat down, but Dad stayed by the window, his hands resting on the sill as he stared at his precious trees.

A foot tapped against the floor. Cosimo probably. I got the sense he was annoyed by this secrecy when he was the one who’d closed the Colombian deal.

I leaned back against the wall, drink in hand, not in the mood to sit.

Seconds ticked by.

Dad was sure as hell taking his time.

“As you all know by now, it was the Santoros trying to sabotage the Colombian deal,” he finally said. “There’s something I need to tell you about that family.”

I took a sip and⁠—

BOOM.

The world cracked open. The air turned solid, slamming into me like a crushing wave. My ears screamed—no, roared—until everything cut out, leaving behind a ringing so sharp it felt like blades slicing through my skull.

Heat clawed at my skin. I was on the floor. My palms pressed into something jagged—glass? I couldn’t tell. Everything around me was engulfed in smoke.

Move. You need to move.

A dark form appeared next to me.

“Rom, you okay?”

It was Cos. He kneeled beside me, his gun already drawn, his face covered in blood. Behind him, our uncles and cousins were swarming into the room, shouting in confusion.

“Fine,” I choked out, coughing. “What happened?”

“A bomb. Can you stand up? Alessio’s out cold.”

I grabbed his arm and forced myself to my feet. The ringing in my ears had softened enough for me to hear the chaos coming from outside the room.

Cosimo tugged me forward until my feet bumped against something soft.

It was Alessio, unconscious, lying behind the sofa with blood soaking his clothes. Fuck. Was he even alive?

“Can you pull him out of here? I need to check on Dad.”

I grabbed Alessio under the arms. One of my cousins appeared beside me and grabbed his feet.

“You ready?” he shouted. “On three!”

We lifted Les and carried him into the living room, where the women were crouched on the ground, their hands covering their heads.

My mother rushed to me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Something exploded.” I pressed my fingers to Alessio’s neck.

He was still breathing.

“Someone call Doc!” I shouted as I searched for injuries. There was glass embedded in his shoulder, and there was a burn on his arm, but nothing life-threatening. He must have hit his head hard, though.

“He’s on his way!” someone shouted back.

“Did anything go off here?” I asked, lifting my gaze to my mother. But she was already gone.

I wiped my forearm across my eyes and blinked, trying to clear the fog in my brain. Everything felt sluggish, like I was operating at low capacity, but the damage in the living room didn’t seem too bad beneath the smoke billowing in from Dad’s office.

The bomb had gone off only in there. Who the hell could’ve planted it?

Planted.

The bonsai tree?

No. Fuck.

Was that the bomb? Dad had been standing right next to it.

“Keep an eye on him,” I barked at my cousin as I got to my feet.

I was halfway to the office when I heard my mother’s scream.