Page 69 of Broken Rules
I catch her hand, ignoring the weak protest, and pull her into my arms. “It’s not your fault.”
She presses her face to my shirt, tears staining the fabric. “It is. If I weren’t there, if I stayed home, if—”
“If you weren’t mine?”
She jerks away, shoving her finger in my chest. “If you didn’t love me, nothing would’ve happened!”
If I didn’t love her... Is that possible? I crossed a line at some point, and I don’t know when.
This is it.
Sheisitfor me.
I’m over my head in love with her. I’m fucking terminal, and I won’t make it without her.
“Promise that you didn’t have him killed,” she whispers, drinking the rest of her wine.
“I swear.” I cup her face, wiping her cheeks with my thumbs. “If anyone ever hurts you and I decide they should die, I’ll kill them myself. Understood?”
It’s not a confession she wants to hear, but like a good girl, she nods, biting her lip, and sits at the bar. I stand behind her, one arm snaked around her collarbones as I kiss the crown of her head. It’s supposed to calmher, but it does more to calm me.
She has the right to know what happened, but the truth will only cause more trouble. The guy who’s in jail isn’t the one who killed. All Layla will see is that another innocent person’s life was ruined because of her.
I sit beside her, taking a cigarette out of the packet. “Do you want to know what happened?”
“No. I know it’s my fault. I know you didn’t kill him... I don’t need more.” She slides off the stool. “I’ll go and pack.”
I catch her hand. “I hate seeing your tears, but I’d rather see you cry than see you try to hide how you really feel. Don’t ever do that around me again. You don’t have to pretend when you’re with me.”
She leans down to kiss me with a small, sad smile.
We arrive at 165 East 72ndStreet just before midnight. Isla greets us as soon as the elevator doors open in the living room of her apartment on the top floor. She embraces Layla, kissing her cheeks, excited beyond reason. She’s loved my girl ever since I mentioned she existed. She’s probably chosen the church, the wedding dress, and the names of her future grandkids.
Layla would start interrogating my mother if it weren’t that late, but she had to settle for a good night’s sleep in my arms. I lie awake most of the night, wondering about the future. Nikolaj’s death will be the beginning of an end.
With Julij refusing to work with Frank, and Nikolaj’s protection dying with him, Frank will be left with nothing. Chicago is too small for us both. One has to bow out, but neither of us will do so voluntarily.
It’s almost four in the morning when I last check the time. I’m not surprised I don’t find Layla beside me when the alarm rings at nine.
“What time did you get up?” I ask, finding her at the dining room table with my mother. A tape recorder is next to her coffee, and Isla watches us from above her rimless glasses, a full-blown smile stretching her thin lips.
“About two hours ago. I wanted to go over my notes, but your mom was up, so we got straight to work.”
Isla twitches in her seat, running her long fingers through her short hair. “She’s amazing, Dante... so intelligent.”
“That she is.” I snatch Layla’s coffee, stepping away when she frowns. “I’m glad you’re getting along because I need to leave for a while.”
“You’re leaving? Without breakfast?” Isla scowls. “I’ll get Marie to fix something for you in no time.”
I’m nearing my thirties, but she still treats me like a five-year-old. “I don’t have time for breakfast, Mom.” Ignoring the disapproving look, I crouch by Layla, resting my hands on her thighs. “I need to take care of something. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be fine.” She kisses my forehead. “I doubt you’d find this interesting, so go ahead.”
I hand her the half-empty cup back, grab the keys to a rental Camaro, throwing my jacket on.
“Baby?” Layla stops me as I leave the room. “Sayhi tohim for me.”
I’m either getting worse at hiding things from her, or she’s too perceptive. Probably the latter. I enter the elevator but march back into the dining room before pressing any buttons.
