And why did my heart flutter like when we were children?
"When will you learn that I do what I want, Little Dove?" He brushed my copper hair over my shoulder, reaching down to take my right hand in his. His thumb stroked the birthmark on my palm, something he'd done since we'd been children. It seemed mostly involuntary at this stage in our lives, something he did completely out of habit. I rolled my eyes at him but let him keep it in his as he led me to the elevators. Not for the first time, I wondered how things would have turned out if Lino had kept the promise he made all those years ago. The one that made me write Mrs. Samara Bellandi in my journal for years after.
But when high school came, he dated.
He dated everyone but me. I couldn't blame him, not with the way girls threw themselves at both Matteo and Lino. I wondered if maybe he was waiting for me to turn sixteen, but sixteen came and went. Then high school came and went.
Then college.
Eventually, I'd just accepted that Angelino Bellandi would never marry me, and I'd given myself to the first man to treat me like I mattered.
The elevator doors closed us in, and the air suddenly felt stifling. I still felt that pull, that irrational draw to Lino. While I'd convinced my heart that being his friend, having him so thoroughly immersed in my life was enough, my body was another story. His thumb still traced my palm, still stroked my skin so delicately, like he thought I might break from the slightest pressure.
He'd never know that I'd survived much worse pain. He could never know. I wouldn't be responsible for what happened to him if he did something there was no turning back from. I knew without a doubt, if he found out about the times Connor had hurt me, I'd lose Lino forever. Lose him to the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface.
I wouldn't be the cause of that, not when it had been my stupidity and stubbornness that led me to that place.
"Where did you go just now?" Lino asked, jolting me out of my thoughts. I turned my head up to look at him, feeling his gaze examining every piece of my face. As if he could see my injuries. See the internal scars I wore that I never allowed him to see. He frowned at me, and I knew his head ran through all the possibilities of what he might need to do to protect me from whatever made me lost in thought.
"Nowhere of significance," I shrugged. "Work this morning was complicated. I had to investigate a rumor, dispose of the evidence to prevent damage to the company's reputation. I'm just distracted is all."
His brow tensed, tarnishing that sexy businessman persona just enough for the devil to show in his face. "You could come work for me."
"I like my job. I rock at my job. I love my job."
"But it's stressful. I could give you a more low-key position." The elevator doors opened on the bottom floor, and we hurried through the lobby to make it to where I knew Lino's driver and his bodyguard would wait on the curb. I nodded to both men, getting friendly smiles in return.
"Miss Mahoney," Georgio, the bodyguard, murmured respectfully and climbed into the front seat after giving a silent nod to Lino. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous display as Lino pulled the door wide for me to climb in, the unspoken agreement that I couldn’t open my own damn door and Lino’s insistence on being the one to do it. I settled into the back seat and buckled in, turning my attention to Lino as soon as the doors closed behind him.
"I need to stand on my own two feet, Lino, and you have to let me," I whispered.
A contented sigh escaped when he reached down and grabbed my legs to pivot me in my seat. He slid the zipper down on my boot, stripping it off to press his thumbs into the arch. We would quickly come to the season where it needed to stop, where I wore pumps to work and wouldn't have socks to protect the secret of my scarred feet.
Since Lino had spent years massaging my feet, my shoulders, taking care of me in every sense of the word, he would know without a doubt that the scars hadn't always been there. "You would be. It's not like you're not a hard-worker."
"No, Lino," I said firmly, tugging my feet back and sliding the one back into my boot. He stared at my legs, his hands hanging in mid-air like he couldn't quite believe I'd stopped him mid-massage. Truthfully, neither could I.
"Okay, what's going on with you?" he demanded, and I knew if there hadn't been seatbelts involved, he'd have been in my face. "You're distancing yourself from me. I want to know why."
"Don't be ridiculous. I am not distancing myself from you. You're my best friend." I wished I could tell him the truth, wished that I could explain the guilt I felt for keeping secrets from him. The playful moments between us faded more and more every day, and I missed the bond I had with my best friend like a lost limb.
We rode the rest of the drive-in silence with Lino's frustrated energy vibrating next to me. Even the two men in the front seat looked uncomfortable as they glanced back at us warily. Finally pulling up to Angel's felt like a relief, where I normally treasured any time, I could spend with him.
I got out of the car quickly, ignoring the way Lino looked ready to kill me. I knew damn well he liked to open my door for me, but I'd meant what I said about needing to stand on my own two feet. The divorce, the complete and total failure of my marriage, made me feel like a failure, and I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't the problem. That I wasn't too codependent on my best friend. That I wasn't to blame for the way Connor's anger had simmered and erupted in our final months together.
Lino growled as he stepped up beside me, pressing a hand to my lower back to guide me inside. The hostess knew him well since he took me to Angel's at least once a month. I tried not to think about the other women he'd probably taken there too, tried to tell myself it didn't matter.
Placing my napkin in my lap, I tried not to flinch when he barked at me. "Is it the divorce?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Would you stop answering all my questions with a question and give me a goddamn answer, Samara? Is he still giving you trouble?" The waiter who filled our water glasses seemed to be comfortable with our conflict, turning a blind eye to it until Lino glared at him and he got the message to disappear.
"He doesn't want the
divorce. I knew this would be a struggle. He has all the resources, and I'm just me," I sighed. I knew what would come next.
“I'll handle it. This has been going on for far too long, and it’s time to just be done with it. You need to be free of him finally and start looking toward your future.”