Page 26 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Did you do that?” Sawyer asks from behind me. “If you did, I wouldn’t quit your day job just yet.”

“N-no… it wasn’t me,” I say, running my hand over the dried paint. Fucking Remus and his not-so-subtle reminders.

I feel Sawyer’s eyes burn into my back, but I refuse to turn around. I’m too tired, too hungover to deal with him right now. “See you later,” he finally says, and I unlock the door and walk into my apartment, leaving him standing outside as I close the door without inviting him inside.

I lean against the door, not moving until I hear him descend the stairs. And only when he’s gone does it feel like I can breathe freely again. I don’t allow myself time to think about what I did, or how being picked to be Sawyer’s fake girlfriend is only step one. I have too far to go and can’t lose sight of the big picture.

As I walk into my room, I find a note on the bed.

Hi Luce,

I’m so sorry to do this. But I can’t… it’s all too fucking much, you know? I need a few days to clear my head. So I’m going to my brother’s. Please don’t try to contact me.

Love you, girl.

Gail <3

Tears gather in my eyes as I read the note over and over, not letting the small piece of paper go until it’s practically soaked from my tears. Gail. I should have gone home with her last night. I should have made sure she was okay with everything I told her.

Sighing, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I can’t lose my best friend, but I also can’t risk losing my freedom. Right now, it feels like I’ll push one away by pursuing the other, and I don’t like that gnawing feeling in my gut.

After a quick shower, I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cashmere sweater. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and pull on a pair of ugly-as-sin but oh-so-comfortable socks I got from Gail for Christmas. Then I pull out my phone and look at it. Well, there’s no time like the present.

Despite Gail asking me not to contact her, I call her. The first three times it rings out, but on attempt four and five I’m sent straight to voicemail.

“Damn it, Gail,” I growl at her voicemail. “You knew I’d try to contact you. I have to know you’re okay, and… and that you forgive me. So I don’t know, send me a smoke signal or something to let me know you’re okay. Please?”

Hanging up, I write the same in a text and send it to her. It immediately shows as read, but no answer or typing dots ever appear. I guess that’s fair. Her reading it shows me she’s okay, right?

Shaking my head, I tell myself to get over it. I need to move on with my plan. If I don’t, I can kiss my freedom goodbye, and then it really won’t matter if Gail’s upset now. If I’m forced back to Rome, I have to make my parting gift a hate-filled one. As in, I’ll have to make sure she hates me. I can’t risk her getting the attention of my Mafia family because she’s trying to find me. That would open her up to being used as a pawn, which I’ll never allow to happen.

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting my mental pity party. When I open it, I recognize one of Remus’ guards. He bows slightly. “Remus asked me to bring you this,” he says, thrusting a black folder toward me.

“What is it?” I ask, taking it from his hand.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says dismissively. “I was ordered to deliver it to you, not to read it. Have a good day.”

“Wait,” I call after him. “Tell Remus he owes me a new door.”

The guard looks from me to the door and back again. “Why?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Our Don isn’t in the habit of destroying property.”

“Whatever, I’ll tell him myself.”

I’m tempted to flip him the bird as he walks down the stairs with his back to me, but I refrain and walk back inside the apartment. As soon as the door is closed and locked, I open the folder.

“Huh?” I murmur, looking down at the marriage license for Lucia Carter and Sawyer Perry.

I’m stunned speechless, barely able to form a thought. Logically, I know this means my cousin is keeping a close eye on me and what’s going on. But I can’t let myself dwell on that. This is… a gift. It’s his way of helping me indirectly, which I’m grateful for. I remove the paper from the folder and neatly fold it before stuffing it into my purse. Okay, so maybe painting my door was a ploy to make it look like he isn’t helping me? I guess that’s possible.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a reminder that I can’t even remember the last time I ate. Was it with Remus yesterday? If so, food is long overdue. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen to scavenge for something edible.

As I rummage through the cabinets, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I see Jo’s name flashing. Even though it’s Saturday, it’s not exactly abnormal for her to contact me if there’s anything she needs to update me on.

“Hey, Jo,” I answer, curiosity mingling with the tiredness in my voice.

“Lucia, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.” Jo’s tone is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “Have you received my emails?”

I furrow my brows, confusion swirling in my mind. “I had the day off yesterday. But hang on, let me check.” Putting her on speaker, I check my inbox on both my private and work emails, but there’s nothing from her. “There are no new emails from you, Jo. Is everything okay?”

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