“Let us toast to the reason for tonight,” he said. “To you, Nick Ferrari. You’ve reached the pinnacle of your profession, and I could not be prouder. Congratulations.”
“Here, here,” I said with everyone.
I clinked glasses with Izzy next to me and took our sip. Gradually, conversations broke out between the two generations, leaving the two of us settled in.
“Not too bad, huh?” I said.
“Not at all,” Izzy said. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course, baby,” I said with a wicked grin.
Izzy gently elbowed me.
“Don’t you dare embarrass me in front of your family,” she said. “This is my first impression!”
“Oh, relax. I’m not going to do anything too embarrassing.”
And then I got naughty. I leaned forward, close enough that only Izzy would have a chance of hearing me.
“But I am going to do plenty of things to your body later that will make you blush.”
But when I pulled back to see Izzy’s reaction, I got none. In fact, she wasn’t even paying attention to me. Her eyes were fixed on the television screen. I followed hers.
“Convicted domestic abuser found murdered in jail cell.”
I couldn’t hear the audio over the family conversations, but the picture of Malcolm was right there. He was dead. Killed in his jail cell.
What the fuck have I done…
A lump formed in my throat that I could not swallow.
And it was made all the worse by the fact that Izzy saw my reaction, and hers had changed from horror to incensed suspicion.
Chapter 22: Izzy
He just got my ex murdered in jail.
His family just got Malcolm murdered in jail.
What in the actual hell have I gotten myself into?
The issue wasn’t that Malcolm was gone. I didn’t wish death on anyone, but I couldn’t pretend his death had been some sort of heartbreak to me. His actions put him in a spot where he had it coming.
But…
I didn’t have proof, obviously, but I knew from the way Nick was reacting to what he saw, the look of shock, but not surprise… he knew something like this would happen. If he could get someone to murder Malcolm behind bars, what else could he do? Could he get me murdered? Could he get Ryan held hostage? Could he murder my family?
Was I now trapped for life with this kind of shit? Did I have to be on perfect behavior from now until the end of time to ensure no one in my family got hurt?
So the rumors were actually fucking true. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I’d cracked a joke. Had Nick…had Nick actually lied to me?
No, no…but the obvious counterpoint was staring at me smack in the face. If Nick hadn’t requested that, he wouldn’t have the guilty look on his face. If I were generous, I’d say he recently learned of his family connections after I got abused, but that seemed like bullshit. A man of his age just didn’t magically learn family secrets.
“I gotta get going,” I said, standing up, not waiting for Nick to hold me down. “Layla, Brett, Leo, thank you for your hospitality. Mister and Mrs. Ferrari, thank you for hosting me.”
“Of course,” his grandmother said, apparently unaware of what was going on right now. “You were a delight. Come by anytime.”
“Thanks,” I said, almost assuredly sounding too flustered to make it seem like I would ever return.
I just started walking, not even knowing where I was going. The whole place was too damn big. I didn’t care if I went out to the backyard and had to circle around to the front. I just…I just…
I just needed to fucking get away before I found myself on the wrong side of this family.
But then I found myself at a dead end.
“If you’re looking for the front door, it’s the other way,” Nick said behind me. “I can take you there.”
I had to bite my lip from saying something too scathing. I felt betrayed, lied to, manipulated. And while perhaps the Ferrari family didn’t know that, the man who had brought me sure as hell did.
“Izzy, what’s going on?” he said. “Are you sure you want to—”
“Leave? Yes,” I said. “Take me to my car. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.”
Nick swallowed again. It wasn’t what he was saying as much as what he wasn’t saying. He wasn’t asking me why I was upset because he knew. He wasn’t saying I was crazy because he knew. He wasn’t saying that I needed to chill because he knew.
He fucking knew.
He started walking toward what I damn well hoped was the front door. He at least had the fucking mercy to avoid taking me back through the family room—too bad he didn’t have the fucking mercy to tell me his family had these sorts of seedy connections. When we got to the front, he held the door open. I blew right by him, even as I heard him following me.
“Izzy, please, talk to me—”
“You want me to talk to you,” I said, feeling like I could finally speak my mind without his family present. “You want me to fucking talk to you? That’s rich. After you don’t talk to me about the family connections you have?”
“What are you—”
“Don’t play fucking coy with me,” I said. “I saw how you reacted to that news report about Malcolm’s death. I asked you straight up on our second date if your family was involved with the mafia. You laughed and got pissed that people would even ask you that, saying it was mostly just stereotypes. I should have known—you weren’t genuinely upset. You were just hiding it.”
“Izzy, I swear—”
“And how the fuck am I supposed to know that you aren’t going
