Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 22

“I WANT TO HAVE A PARTY,” Sylvie announces when I walk through the door, her eyes sparkling, her behavior downright giddy.

We’ve been back in Manhattan for not even a week, and she already wants to have a party?

“Hello to you too,” I say in greeting, approaching her so I can give her a kiss.

Her face is already turned toward mine, her lips slightly pursed, and I give her a deep, tongue-filled kiss before I pull away, smiling at the dazed look filling her eyes.

“That was nice,” she murmurs.

“More where that came from,” I say as I walk away from her, headed to my—our—bedroom, working at the tie around my neck until it’s coming undone. I toss it on the bed as I stride into the walk-in closet, eager to get out of this suit and relax for the evening.

“Did you even hear what I said?” she calls out to me.

I quickly strip and throw on a T-shirt, exiting the closet with a pair of joggers in my hand, which I hurriedly put on while she watches. “You want to have a party.”

She nods and smiles, clasping her hands in front of her expectantly. Giving me younger Sylvie vibes, giddy like a teenager. “Great idea, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Her expression falls and she drops her hands at her sides. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“You want to put yourself in that kind of position, inviting people over? It’s a lot, Syl.” I’m just watching out for her, wanting to protect, like I promised her I would. I hope she sees that.

From the scowl appearing on her face, I’m guessing not.

“I’m ready for a lot. I’m bored, sitting in this apartment all day, Spence. I want to announce my return to the city.” She throws her arms up in the air, a big grin on her face reappearing. “It’ll be an intimate party for just friends and certain members of my family.”

“Certain members? Like who?”

“Whit and Summer. Carolina. She’s home for the summer, you know.”

“I didn’t know.” I settle on the edge of the bed, grabbing her hand and pulling her close, so she’s standing in front of me.

“I just found out. She called me earlier. I guess she hurt herself dancing. She’s out for a month. She works too hard, she told me. And now she’s climbing the walls, desperate to do something to fill her time. We’re going to meet for lunch soon.”

“Your mom’s not in on this lunch, is she?”

Sylvie shakes her head, her gaze finding mine. “I told Lina I don’t want to see our mother. She knows how I feel.”

“Just checking.” I tug on her hand and she dips her head, our lips brushing. It’s been nonstop sex between us since she’s come back here to live with me. We have plans to return to California in a couple of months. She’s currently looking for someone to renovate the house, and she’s put a deadline on herself, so when we return, she’ll meet with people and discuss her plans. She’s not about to give up that house, and I don’t blame her. It’s the only thing in the world that is solely hers.

Well, my heart is all hers too, but she doesn’t seem as excited about that.

Fuck, I love torturing myself sometimes, I swear.

Earl’s old apartment is already up for sale at my urging. We don’t need the reminder of him lingering in our relationship and she agreed. She even offered the apartment to Earl’s children at a bargain price, but they weren’t interested. Looks like they have no interest in harassing Sylvie any longer either.

Lucky for them, because I would make their life a living hell if they ever came for her.

“How was your day?”

“Good.” I kiss her again before hooking my arm around her waist and pulling her to me so we fall backward on the bed, our legs tangled. I kiss her again, my tongue sliding against hers until she breaks away to catch her breath, her hands on my shoulders.

“You never tell me what you do during the day,” she protests.

“You don’t care. Trust me,” I murmur, kissing her again.

How can I tell her that I went with some of my father’s men and we met with someone who hasn’t repaid a loan we extended him six months ago? That I had to threaten him and then watch while they roughed him up some? That sounds like some criminal shit because guess what?

It is criminal, what we’re doing. We bribe and steal and smuggle—that’s our business. My father is always up to no good, and I’ve already fallen directly into his footsteps. Like I’m the fallen angel in this situation, giving in to my father’s demands only because we’re bound by blood.

Deep down though, there’s a part of me that…likes what I do. Working with my father, handling all of the accounting for the business, amongst other things. I’m the chief financial officer of one of the biggest smuggling operations in the city, not that I can show the title off.

I also hate what I do, specifically in this moment. What will Sylvie think when she finds out everything? Will she hate me? Think less of me? Push me away? Will she believe me when I say that I tried, but I can’t fight it? That I was born to do this?

I can’t escape my life. The only way I could leave is if I fled to another country and changed my identity. And I can’t do that to my dad.

He needs me.

“But I do care.” She shoves at my chest, making me pull away from her. “I don’t want any secrets between us.”

“It’s not a secret, what I do.” Shame washes over me at the thought of telling her, of watching her expression slowly but surely turn more and more horrified with every word I said.

No. I can’t risk it.

“It is to me.” She dodges my seeking lips, her hands curling into the fabric of my T-shirt and giving me a gentle shake. “Tell me.”

An aggravated sigh leaves me and I deposit her onto the bed, rising to my feet. “No.”

I march out of the bedroom, headed for the kitchen, feeling like a complete shit. Damn it, I’m not proud of what I do for my father. I knew this moment was coming, that Sylvie would want to know, but I don’t want to tell her.

Not now. Not when I’m her hero. Once she finds out the truth, she won’t look at me the same.

I know I don’t look at me the same, that’s for damn sure.

I’m pouring myself a glass of whiskey when she enters the kitchen, bringing her fury with her. Her face is flushed and her eyes are wild, her entire body practically vibrating with anger.

“You can’t walk away from me like that,” she admonishes, her tone haughty.

“I just did.” I take a gulp of the whiskey, finishing it off in two swallows before I pour myself another. “Want a drink?”

“Only if I can throw it in your face,” she retorts.

“No whiskey for you then.” I sip from my second pour, taking it slow so I don’t get drunk too fast and say something I might regret.

Too late, I think.

She scoffs, positively scandalized. “Sometimes you’re so sweet, like the Spence I used to know, and then you turn into a complete dick, like how you’re acting right now.”

“I’m just…protecting you.”

Sylvie rolls her eyes, reaching out to grip the edge of the counter. “From who? You?”

I swallow thickly, shoving the glass across the counter. “Sometimes I do…not so nice things in the name of my father’s business.”

“Like what? Off someone? Are you in the mob or what?”

I say nothing, just stare at her, and the longer the silence grows, the wider her eyes get.

“You’re full of shit,” she whispers.

I grab the glass, taking another big gulp, still remaining silent.

“Spencer. Tell me the truth.” Her voice rises, giving me serious mom vibes, which is a vibe I’ve never gotten from Syl before. “Are you in. The. Mob?”

“My father kind of is.” Fuck. I can’t come straight out and say it.

“Which makes you what…a member by default?”

“I help him out. Sometimes helping him out involves violence. If you’re a Donato, it comes with the territory.” I shrug, not wanting to give her too many details.

She’s gaping at me, seemingly at a loss for words, and I almost want to laugh, though the moment isn’t funny. Not even close. “I always thought the mob talk surrounding your family was nothing but rumors.”

“Rumors are usually based on truth, you know.” I grab an empty glass and pour some whiskey into it before pushing the glass toward her, but she doesn’t pick it up. “Look, Syl. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.”

“Me too,” she admits, her voice soft. “But I always thought you’d be truthful with me, Spencer. This feels like you’ve been living a lie.”

I stare at her, her words like arrows piercing my heart, one after the other. “I was trying to protect you.”

Another scoff. “Please.”

I decide to be one hundred percent real with her. “I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

“Come on, Spencer. Don’t you know me well enough by now? That I would never think less of you, no matter what you do?”

“You still surprise me on occasion,” I admit, reaching for her, but she steps away before I can get my hands on her.

“I’m disappointed in you.” She grabs the glass and tosses back the alcohol in one long swallow, and fuck, if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

“How can I make it up to you?” My tone is dark. Suggestive.

I’d rather fuck than talk.

She settles the glass onto the countertop with a loud clank, then runs her hand over the smooth marble. “Did you ever think of me on this counter? Remember what we did?”

My skin tightens. “I remember every second of that night.”

“I was drunk and high, showing up like I did only wearing a trench coat.”

“Hot as fuck in just the coat and nothing else,” I murmur.

Her eyes lift, meeting mine. “I was scared I would never see you again. I took a chance, coming here in the middle of the night. It could’ve ended ugly, you know.”

“I would’ve never turned you away.”

“Exactly, and I would never turn you away, no matter what you’ve done. I need you to be real with me, Spencer. Truthful. Always. We can’t have secrets between us anymore. Secrets destroy a relationship. A marriage. Secrets destroy everything, and I’ve dealt with enough over the years.” Her gaze is pleading. “Please don’t keep any more secrets from me. I don’t know if I can take it.”

I round the counter and go to her, yanking her into my arms and holding her close. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair, closing my eyes and saying a silent prayer of thanks when she doesn’t pull away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I still don’t want to talk about it, but I know that I’ll have to, eventually. It’s just the way of the world, the way of our world. Our relationship.

Keeping secrets never work. They grow and fester, eventually tainting everything they touch. And I can’t taint what Sylvie and I have, now that we’re together.

“Does Whit know?” she asks.

“He knows some things, but not all of them.”

“So even my brother knows this about you, but I don’t.” She tries to pull away from me, but I tighten my hold.

“That’s not fair. He’s my best friend. He figured it out on his own, I never told him about it.” I pause, stroking her hair. “Besides, we haven’t been in actual contact with each other for a couple of years. I’m not going to lead with that information.”

Sylvie giggles, her mood switching quick as lightning, as usual. “Why not? Could’ve made the conversation between us extra stimulating.”

“We can do other, extra stimulating things,” I tease, trying to keep the moment light.

It’s easier than facing my truth and sharing it with the woman I love.

She tilts her head back, and I can see the battle in her gaze. She wants to be mad at me, but can’t be. I know exactly what that feels like. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

I frown, shocked by her demand. “Of course, I’ll never hurt you.”

“Promise me,” she insists. “Say it out loud.”

“I’ll never hurt you. I promise.” I lean in, giving her a quick kiss. “You know I’m only keeping this from you to protect you.”

“Oh please. Spare me.” She pats my chest. “You’re going to have to tell me everything soon. I mean it, Spencer.”

“I will.” I don’t ever want to admit to her what I do. It’s hard for me to admit to myself what I come from.

“Good.” Her smile is wide. “Your punishment is that you have to come to my party, whether you want to or not.”

Like that’s a hardship. “You’re really set on having this party, huh?”

“Absolutely. Just a few friends and relatives, like I said earlier. We’ll have it here on a Saturday afternoon. A little tea party perhaps? All the ladies can wear pink.”

“Whatever you want.” I will indulge this woman’s every whim, just to ensure she’s happy. That she’ll never leave me.

I’ve done things that could make her leave. I will continue to do them too. I can’t stop. Besides…

My father won’t let me.