Page 48 of Love and Lies

“What a shitty night,” she muttered, rubbing her hands across her face. She seemed to have taken her makeup off in the bathroom, but there were still dark smudges under her eyes.

“Well, what do you expect when you fuck around with the shadiest dealer in the city?” I pulled on a restaurant-branded polo shirt and doused another cotton ball in disinfectant. “Can I take a look at that?” I motioned to her throat.

She nodded tiredly and lifted her head as I sat down next to her. I took a good look at the wound, and as I dabbed the blood carefully away, I saw that it wasn’t all that deep. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t even scar.

“It’s not so bad,” I reported.

“Told you,” Helena replied quietly, waiting for me to finish putting a dressing on it before she lowered her head again. She was very close, just inches away. I should have pulled back, but I didn’t, and neither did she. Something sparkled between us then, sending a surge of heat through my body that I hadn’t felt in a long time. But I did the right thing and put some distance between us, getting up from the sofa to throw the cotton ball in the trash.

“I’ll go check on the food,” I said, disappearing through the door in the direction of the kitchen. Leonora and Taddeo stood in front of the oven, talking together quietly. When I came in, they stopped.

“The pizza is almost ready,” Taddeo announced with a grave expression. “What happened to the poor girl, Jess? She looked awful.”

“Don’t tell her that, whatever you do.” She was a Weston, after all; they were obsessed with being perfect. I leaned against the worktop. “She was attacked by a drug dealer in the alley behind the Glowfly.”

“A drug dealer?” He wrinkled his forehead, while Leonora opened the oven and took out a couple of pizzas. “What did she want with him? She’s not into that, is she?”

I shook my head. If there was anything I could say with certainty, after everything that had happened with her sister, it was that Helena Weston kept well away from narcotics. “No. I have no idea what she was doing with him. But I made sure he won’t be a threat to her anymore.” The grimness in my voice made Leonora stop what she was doing and look up.

“You like her, don’t you?” she asked.

I paused for a moment. Did I like Helena? If only that were an easy question to answer. She was stubborn, she only told the truth when it suited her, and, up until this point, we’d fought with each other at every opportunity. And yet there was something between us that drew me to her like crazy. Even if it would be insane to act upon it.

“Liking her isn’t an option,” I replied simply.

“Why not?” asked Leonora, outraged. “You’re such a good-looking boy, smart, and polite. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

I leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Leo. But even if that were true, it doesn’t apply to this girl.”

Massimo, one of the servers, stuck his head through the pass. “The last customers are gone; I’ve closed up.”

“Oh good, so you can eat out front.” Leonora lay the pizzas out on large plates and shooed me away to let Helena know. I went back into Taddeo’s office and found her still sitting on the sofa, studying a menu she’d found.

“The pizza is ready, and Leonora requests our presence in the dining room,” I announced. Helena glanced down at her outfit, but before she could wonder whether or not it was appropriate, I waved away her doubts. “The restaurant is empty. No one will see you.”

She looked relieved and stood up slowly, as if making sure she didn’t feel faint. But she seemed to be coping with Pratt’s attack remarkably well—and a second later she brushed past, touching me lightly on the arm.

“Are you coming?” she asked, sounding almost a little impatient.

I shook my head with a grin and followed her to the main dining area. Helena Weston was obviously tougher than I’d given her credit for. I had no idea why that surprised me. But I did know that every minute I spent with her, I was sinking further into danger, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d have bigger problems than a furious drug dealer. But the strange thing was, I didn’t mind—in fact, it was the opposite. For the first time in forever, I felt something—felt myself again. And I was damned if I was going to give that up.

No matter how this ended.

23 Helena

I loved Jessiah’s restaurant from the very first moment I walked in. Its cozy atmosphere was the opposite of modern, but it was incredibly snug, and I felt at home right away. That was also partly due to the older couple running the place; they treated me like a regular, and Jessiah like a son. I thanked them several times for the clothes and the pizza, which looked so good my stomach gave a hearty rumble when I saw it. But the old man simply waved away my thanks, and he and his wife left us to our table, tucked away in a side nook and shielded from view by anyone on the street.

“Do you want salami and jalapeño, or mushroom and pepper?” inquired Jessiah as he returned from the bar and put a Coke down in front of me.

“They both sound good.” And smelled amazing.

“Well, in that case…” He stood up again, got two extra plates, then pushed both pizzas into the middle between us. “Help yourself.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I reached for a slice, ignoring the cutlery, and took a bite. The flavors of thin, doughy crust, mozzarella, perfect tomato sauce, and spicy salami unfolded in my mouth, and I couldn’t help giving a sigh of satisfaction.

“This is heaven on earth,” I reported.

“Better than my pasta?” Jessiah joked, running a hand through his blond hair. It had gotten even curlier in the rain, and I liked it more than I cared to admit.