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I haven’t told anyone about California, and I’ve carried the weight of it alone for a long time. The only people I confided in were my parents. And the law enforcement that dismissed it because some monsters have more money than God.
But looking at Charles now, I think it might help.
I return the spoon to the jar in my lap.
"I trusted someone once," I say, my voice softer. "Back in California. Someone powerful. And I learned the hard way how my trust was very misplaced. Because he turned out to be someone who knew what no meant but didn’t care.”
“Mrs. Di Zaro—”
“Please, Charles. Let me get this out.” I look down to collect my words because I need to let them out. They are a heavy weight in my chest, and I’m tired of carrying this all by myself. “This man used his power against me. He used it to destroy my life. He took from me and kept taking because he could. Even when I was crying. Even when…. My words break up because of the fear I feel when I say them. “…even when I begged him to stop.”
"That man is a monster," Charles says in a voice that is as close to a growl as I imagine Charles could manage.
“You couldn’t imagine,” I whisper, tears forming in my eyes. I look down at the jar in my lap. "Dante's not going to hurt me like that. I know he isn't. He would think that is vile."
“And you would be correct.”
“And he has never been rough with me. Unkind even, which is a crazy thing to say, but it’s true.”
"Then what?"
"I've spent fifteen months making sure nobody could get close enough to do any damage. Because I put my trust in the wrong person and got hurt. I got hurt in the worst way. Then Dante comes along, plunging me into this ridiculous scenario, and instead of fighting him … I can feel myself handing my trust over again. Trust I have kept so close to my chest for the last fifteen months. To a man I have no business trusting. Or wanting."
Charles is quiet for a moment.
"I've worked for your husband for eleven years," he says. "I don't pretend to know the whole of what he is. I doubt anybody does, including him. He straddles a line more often than he'd ever admit to, and I've seen him break bones. I've seen him break faces. But I've never once seen him break a heart."
I like that.
“No?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head. “Truth be told, he would think it was vulgar too. I know you won’t believe me when I say it, but I think Mr. Di Zaro is a diehard romantic who would rather break his own heart than break yours.”
“Really?” I want to believe him.
“Really.”
And a slow smile grows on my lips.
"See?" I point the spoon at him again. "You’re a great BFF."
A smile twitches on his lips, and for one glorious second I think I've broken his stiff exterior. But it vanishes just as quickly. "I shall pretend this conversation never occurred."
"Too late. You're locked in."
“Locked in?”
“We’re BFFs now.”
He turns and walks toward the elevator, but not before I see the corners of his mouth turn upward.
He’s a step away from the doors when I call out to him. "Charles, where did Dante go tonight?"
He stops but doesn't turn around.
“Why would someone burn down a warehouse belonging to a casino owner?” I ask.
“That’s a conversation you would need to have with your husband,” he says, continuing on to the elevator and pressing the button.
