Page 28 of Stolen Christmas
“Yeah, that wasn’t done intentionally.”
“Hey, I don’t know anything.” He raises his hands up like he’s not complicit, but it’s bullshit. I roll my eyes and walk away, roaming the condo to check out my new home. It’s kick ass and spacious for a glorified apartment. That’s what I consider condos anyway. You live in a freaking apartment building, sharing walls, elevators, doors, and pay mortgages that are like rent, so what’s the difference? I like our home even if it isn’t this fancy in the middle of downtown.
Damn it, I need to go home and check on things. I have bills that need paying, including an expensive water and gas bill. I can’t just leave it as it is. The pipes and the hot water heater need to be checked because frozen pipes is a disaster waiting in the Midwest every winter. We kept the temp at an even sixty-six to conserve the gas bill. I cooked every night, and that warmed up our small, sixteen-hundred-square-foot bungalow easily. The brick frame also acted like a great insulator even though we needed some work on the windows.
I drop down on the plush sofa and close my eyes, muttering, “What am I going to do?” My life has been nothing but unsteady for almost the past year. I just learned to float after my parents’ carjacking murder. It shook me to my core, but what could I do? I had to grow up the rest of the way and take care ofmy brother. Being a parent to a teenager is brutal, and I wasn’t at all prepared.
The sound of footsteps interrupts my thoughts. My heart pounds when I think it’s Luca, but it’s just Marco. “Mrs. D’Antonio, your lunch has arrived.”
“I’m coming.” I walk into the foyer where a young woman is standing there with a small open box of food. “Please set it down.” I’m a little annoyed that this petite young woman just about my age comes to deliver my food.
“Thank you. It was getting heavy,” she mumbles and then blushes. Heavy? What did he bring me?
“Thank you. How long have you worked for Mr. D’Antonio?” Her long black hair is luminous and silky, and her face is gorgeous, like movie-star perfect. I feel a pang of jealousy.
“I’m sorry. I don’t work for him. I work for the delivery service. He demanded a female delivery person for his wife, so they sent me. I usually work as a server.” After this morning, I suppose he had enough of me showing my goodies to men. Did he expect me to just flaunt my treasures everywhere?
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any tip money with me.” There was some money in my purse, but the jerk took my things, and it all must be locked away in his office.
She smiles and then waves her hand. “Please don’t worry, it’s totally been taken care of already. Have a good day, and I hope you like it. If you need anything else delivered, my name is Melody.”
“Thanks, Melody.” She nods and waves before leaving. I go to close the door, but Marco is there, beating me to it as if he’s worried I’m going to run off.
“I’m not going to run away. I don’t even have any shoes.” I wiggle my toes at him.
“It’s for safety purposes, Mrs. D’Antonio.”
“It’s Angel.”
“If I call you that, I’ll catch a bullet to the head. I’ll pass.”
“Really? First names are out of the question?”
“No, your name is also an endearment.”
Oh, I see that now. Still, I’m not Luca’s wife, and it feels too formal. “How about Mrs. D or something?”
“No. Now please eat your food before it gets late and Mr. D’Antonio returns to find you haven’t eaten.” He actually seems concerned for himself, which almost makes me laugh, but then again, my future husband is a mobster that clearly has some cops in his pocket, although it’s clear Luca doesn’t have Tony working for him even though I’m positive Tony’s shady as hell.
I lightly roll my eyes, but I do what he says so he doesn’t get in trouble. Besides, my stomach is doing the hula inside. So I take the food into the living room and sit down with my choice of a salad with three different dressings, a soup, and two different types of sandwiches. “Goodness, does he expect me to eat all of this?” I hope not.
There are also two bottles of water. I could really use a Sprite, but this works too. I pick the chicken sandwich, stealing some of the onions and lettuce off the salad to stuff in it. Somehow it makes the meal so much better.
A moan falls from my lips as the flavors hit my tongue. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but apparently it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten. A cellphone rings, and then Marco quickly leaves the room.
Whatever. I was about to offer him some food. I eat in peace while thinking about the future. What is going to happen between Luca and me? What will happen once we marry and my brother is no longer a bargaining chip? Will he let my brotherjust live with us? Will Noah behave? God, I hope he does. Luca doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that will tolerate my brother acting out.
I miss my little brother. Where is Marco? I need to ask about Noah, and I want an update. “Marco?” I call out around the condo, but he doesn’t seem to be inside.
“Are you done eating?” he asks. I open the front door, and he’s standing outside.
“No, but I have a question.” I look outside and around. “What are you doing out here?”
“It’s my job.”
“You were inside earlier,” I remind him.
“That was just until you woke up and were aware of your surroundings.”
