The Marriage Merger (22 page)

She refused to analyze the complete mess of the evening. Tomorrow she’d wake up stronger and ready to face the day. Julietta snapped the radio to a local station, cranked up the volume, and headed home.

…

Sawyer sat in the dark and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

The whole way home he hadn’t spoken. Wolfe seemed to be on the same level and contented himself with staring out the window. Something had changed tonight, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

The moment Julietta had tried to push him away, he’d gone nuts. Her cool demeanor had challenged him to prove their connection and caused a deep-seated panic he’d never experienced before. He only knew he wasn’t ready to give her up. Not yet.

Sawyer figured she’d gotten spooked. Unfortunately, he hadn’t helped matters much by acting all caveman, and she’d tossed out the relationship card. Did she want something more permanent between them? Was sex getting mixed up with real feelings?

He had nothing to base it on. He’d never wanted a woman longer than a few nights. Never craved to go deeper than the physical needs of the evening. He enjoyed being in control and bestowing pleasure. But something was different with Julietta, and he didn’t know what to do.

He stared at the painting on the wall. A couple entwined on a bed. The man’s foot snaked between her open legs, his bare back blocking the onlookers’ full view. Shadow darkened the room and highlighted parts of her anatomy.

The curve of hip. The stiff peak of her nipple. The spill of dark hair over her shoulders. The woman’s face filled with a naked longing as she stared at her lover. In its complete stripping down of complex emotions to only lust and need, Sawyer touched peace. He’d always loved erotic art. For a little while, when he stared at a good piece, he was trans-ported to a place he could actually imagine and touch something real. Something he rarely felt in a good sense.

Watching Julietta in her home with her mother soothed his soul. His meals consisted of eating alone at formal restaurants, drive-thrus, or his desk. Sharing a meal forged an intimacy between them that fascinated him.

But, of course, it could never work.

He remembered the night he’d first met Mama Conte.

God, he’d been so young and green, full of raw fury and ambition he’d barely been able to restrain himself. He’d fought viciously for the opportunity of an internship to work at the Plaza hotel in New york, and his boss was the biggest asshole on the planet. reminded him of his foster father—a bunch of mean dressed in a fancy suit with money to protect him. robin had hated Sawyer on sight and made his days as hellish as possible, blaming him for things that went wrong and taking credit for everything right. Still, when he got to accompany robin to Milan on a deal, he felt as if he hit the big time. Boarding a plane, learning Italian, and getting an official passport made him feel alive. Not a ghost in society, but a man who had possibilities. Until that night.

Sawyer had made an impression on the client. His big mistake had been giving out his card in hopes of working with the guy in the future. robin didn’t seem to relish the idea of his apprentice getting ahead of him. When they both hit the bar for a celebratory drink, robin began verbally abusing him. As his voice and fury rose, Sawyer snapped, then fought back.

And got fired.

Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut as the memory cut deep.

The terror at being stranded in Italy, jobless, and having to start over. The humiliation of having everyone in the lounge stare at him, shaking their heads with pity for the poor kid.

Sawyer was dragged back to his past.

Robin stayed at the bar drinking heavily. The plan took
root as Sawyer watched him make a pass at an exquisitely
dressed woman beside him. Sawyer knew she was a prosti-tute, and as his former boss became louder and more aggressive, he made a decision.

He left the bar. It was easy to buy the video camera. Even
easier to make a deal with the hooker for the footage necessary to blackmail and ruin his boss. Sawyer watched the
scene play out from the sidelines as Robin staggered and the
woman took out her room key, leading him away. She nodded at Sawyer and held up a hand.

Five minutes.

He got up to nurse his beer at the bar while he waited.

And heard the voice.

“He probably deserves it, you know.”

His head swiveled. The woman beside him was dressed
in pewter slacks and a charcoal cardigan, and had beautiful,
long gray hair twisted up in a bun. The lines of her face were
full of humor and grace, and her dark eyes were kind as she
stared back at him.

“Scusi?”

The woman smiled and ordered a glass of Chardonnay
from the bartender. “I was eating with my friend and over-heard the scene. He is your boss, no?”

Sawyer drummed his fingers on the wood top and glanced
at his watch. Four minutes. “He
was
my boss. Got fired.”

She sighed. “Many people use power for the wrong
things. What business are you in?”

“Hotels. We were meeting a client here, but I guess I was
a bit too successful.” The hate and bitterness twisted inside
him and made him nauseous. Sawyer pushed his beer away.

“Not sure why I thought it would be different,” he murmured
to himself. “I was stupid to play by the rules.”

“No. You were brave. Believing in something good is the
only thing that can hold us together.”

He paused and studied her. She smelled of sugar and cakes
and sweetness. What was her game? His fingers slipped to the
small bag that held the camera. He gripped it more firmly
and took a swig of beer. Three minutes. “Trust me, I don’t live
in the world of the fantastic. You need to protect yourself by
using any means necessary. Only the strong survive.”

Suddenly, her hand grasped his wrist. His first reaction
was to jerk away—he couldn’t stand anyone touching him
without warning—but her skin was warm and her gaze steady
as she looked at him. Not just on the surface, but down deep
using those brown eyes, so Sawyer sensed she saw every one
of his writhing, twisted demons. “Life is more than surviving,
don’t you think? Life is about choices. Hard ones. There is
something bigger than us out there, something called karma.

Every good deed goes back into the universe, and every bad
one reaps retribution. Maybe not here on Earth, but later.”

He shook from a sudden onslaught of emotion. Sawyer
sneered in mockery from the slight softening. “Bullshit, lady.

There is no hereafter, and happiness here means money,
power, and taking what you want.”

Her smile was gentle and full of so much wisdom he sucked
in his breath. “You’re wrong. I know what you want to do, and I
don’t blame you. No one could. An eye for an eye seems appropriate. But you’ll only wake up emptier and needing more hate
to fill you.” Her fingers tightened around his sudden hammering pulse. “I’m asking you to choose different. Today. Choose
to walk away from this, and everything may change.”

Fear shook him like a teething puppy with a new bone.

“Who are you? You don’t know me, or him. You don’t know
anything.”

“I know I see something in you that’s so much more
than this.” Her grip eased, and she drew some euros from her
purse and pushed them across the bar. Then carefully placed
a business card next to him. “I’d like to help you. I know
someone who runs a well-known hotel, and I think you’d fit
in nicely. But you need to decide what you want more.”

Sawyer scoffed at the card that held the name La Dolce
Famiglia with a delicate cake sketched on the front. A fucking bakery? A crazy laugh strangled his chest. He was ready
to film a porno with a hooker and blackmail his boss. He
lived in the garbage because that was what he knew was true.

Any attempt for anything real or clean would only disappoint him. And Sawyer had learned his lesson well.

Hope was deadly.

“Sure, lady. Whatever.” He tucked her card into his suit
jacket to get rid of her. “Thanks for the offer.”

She closed her eyes briefly, as if he was her son and had let
her down. When she opened them, her brown eyes gleamed
clear and bright and sharp as the edge of a broken bottle. “I
know you don’t believe me. I probably wouldn’t either. Still,
the Lord gives us choices every day, and each tiny one makes
up the framework of our life. This doesn’t guarantee terrible
things don’t happen to good people. Innocent people.” A
sadness clung to her like a cloud of perfume. “Your future
can be changed by one decision. One good thing can offset a
mountain of bad. But you need to choose.”

She picked up her wine and nodded her head with a
grace that made him long for something beautiful in his life.

“Thank you for listening.”

The woman disappeared out of the bar as if she had been
conjured up by some weird sorcerer from Harry fucking
Potter. Sawyer glanced at his watch and pushed the strange
encounter from his mind.

Showtime.

He drained his beer, paid, and took the elevator up to
the eleventh floor. The key card to room 117 burned in his
grip. He checked the hall and made sure all was quiet. No
maid or foot traffic yet. Saywer hefted the camera and fiddled
with the buttons, making sure he was ready to film the movie
of his life. Finally. His first step of vengeance, even sweeter
than beating the shit out of the boys who tried to jump him
in the alley he called home or stealing from rich pricks who
spent their endless amounts of money on coffee and designer
clothes and fancy women.

He slid the key in the door and waited for the click.

The light blinked. Sawyer paused.

The image of Danny ripped past his vision. Of a little boy
who looked up to him, who believed he was strong enough to
protect him from the demons and keep him safe. His failure
rose up to mock him, and years of bullshit and pain raged
within his gut. His fingers trembled and he choked on nausea.

This would be his life. A life of no rules, no limits, just an
endless spiral of emptiness. Panic reared, and he shook as if
in a fever, his breath lodged in his icy chest.

The faint sounds of laughter drifted from behind the door.

A slurred insult. The sound of spanking and a low moan.

Sawyer knew he’d open the door to a scene from porn heaven.

He’d get his job back, get Robin fired, and never look back.

His past blurred into the present, the future. The woman’s
words seared his brain until a bright light exploded in his
vision.

One choice stood before him, clear and true, with precise
consequences.

The other loomed ahead, fogged in mystery, ready to
knock him back on his ass for taking a chance.

“oh, yes, baby, just like that, oh, feels good!”

Sawyer staggered back from the door and fought for
breath. In a drunken stupor, he moved down the hallway and
shot down the stairs, running faster and faster away from the
demons. He burst through the doors, into the lobby, and out
to the sidewalk, dragging in clean air, losing himself in the
crowd of people busily shuffling past him with the goal of
work, pleasure, family, food, life.

He didn’t know how long or how far he walked. Minutes.

Hours. Finally, he took out the card and studied the address.

He took a taxi, then the funicular into Bergamo, and finally
reached the house. His hand shook as he raised it to knock.

The door swung open, and the woman from the bar
looked at him.

“I didn’t do it.” His breath rushed out of his lungs. A
strange sob rose to his lips. “I didn’t do it.”

The woman’s voice was wrapped in a loving strength
promising safe haven. Promising something Sawyer didn’t
believe existed. “I am so proud of you. What is your name?”

“Sawyer Wells.”

“Come inside, Sawyer Wells. We will talk. It will all be all
right.”

He stepped inside and his life changed.

The memory shimmered and disappeared like wisps of smoke. He was betraying a woman he loved. If Julietta had any feelings for him other than sexual, he’d destroy her and hurt Mama Conte. Julietta was a woman with character, strength, purpose. She was loyal to her family and walked in the light. Deep down, he’d never be enough for her, and the longer they spent together, the more dangerous the outcome. Better to allow Julietta the distance she desperately craved. She deserved a man who was whole and could give her the kind of life she deserved.

Marriage. Babies. A full heart. Not someone who had nothing else to offer her other than good intentions and endless nights of sex.

No, he needed to end it now. Go back to the standard working relationship and be happy with memories.

His gut burned like acid.

“What are you doing?”

Sawyer jerked his head around. Wolfe stood in the doorway in a long-sleeved Nike shirt and boxers. His crazy hair stood straight up at wacky angles. “Nothing.” Sawyer’s voice was empty, as devoid of emotion as his own pathetic soul. “Go back to bed.” He was about to turn away when he caught the look in the boy’s eyes.

Haunted.

Ah, yes. The monsters always came at night, when you needed sleep and peace desperately. When you were most vulnerable. Sawyer motioned toward the chair next to him.