Page 19 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

Chapter Eighteen

L ooking at my two best friends and listening to their stories, I realize just how much my life has changed over the past few weeks. I’m now married, with a stepchild. And I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.

I still haven’t really processed everything Carlo confided to me.

My mother, who I believed to be dead my whole life, is very much alive.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

It’s not like I have any memories of her.

The only things I know about her are from the stories my father has shared, and they have been few and far between.

Can you miss something you’ve never had?

Maybe the concept. When I was younger, I wished for a mother.

I thought maybe if I had had one, my father wouldn’t have been as cruel.

There was always that little bit of guilt I felt for her death as well.

Not that my father ever blamed me. Not once did he tell me it’s my fault she died.

Which, now that I’m thinking about it, is strange.

He used every other tool in his arsenal to either control me or control the way I felt about myself and others.

He loved my mother, or so he says. So why would he not tell me I was the cause of her death and throw that in my face every chance he got? Unless he knows she didn’t really die.

But that just leads me to wonder why he’d let the woman he loved go and restart her life, marry another man and have a family. I don’t get it and I’m not sure I can even ask him.

And then there’s Carlo. He’s known this information for years and kept it to himself.

He purposely broke my heart to save the life of a woman neither of us has ever met.

Why? I mean, I understand that if he had ignored those threats, then he’d have to tell me my mother was alive but now dead.

I don’t know how that would have worked out either.

I still think he could have gone about the whole thing another way. He could have told me about the threats, about my mother. We could have faked a breakup or something. We could have ended things differently. He didn’t have to shatter my heart.

I don’t know how to feel about everything. I know that I told him I’d try to give our marriage a real chance. And I will. I’m just not sure I can fully forgive him or let him have access to my heart again.

“Okay, spill. What’s on your mind?” Luna nudges my shoulder.

I invited her and Georgia over to study. It’s the first time I’ve had anyone in this penthouse. It feels weird to have my friends in Carlo’s space. But it was either here or downstairs in the casino somewhere or the library. We can’t chat as openly in those other places so I went with here.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“Sure. So… Carlo still know how to hit that magic spot?” Georgia asks. “I mean, he is older now. Might have lost his talent.”

I feel the blush run up my cheeks. I was a little too open about how Carlo was in bed years ago.

“Judging by the color on your face, I’d say he does.” Luna wags her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Don’t do that. You look stupid. And of course he does. He’s not old,” I tell them. The ping of the elevator sounds out, and I look to my friends. “Not a word.”

“Antonia!” Carlo’s voice booms through the apartment. Something’s wrong. He never raises his voice like that.

I jump out of my seat. He appears in the doorway, scanning the living room and noticing I’m not alone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, peering over to Jazzy, who is clinging to his side. “What happened?”

Carlo wraps an arm around me. His lips press against my forehead before they move down to my ear. “We need to lock down,” he whispers so my friends don’t hear.

Lock down. That can only mean one thing. I step back and get a better look at him. His pants are scuffed, and the white dress that Jazzy is wearing is covered in dirt. “Okay,” I tell him.

“Here. Let me take her. Why don’t you go get changed?” I grab Jazzy’s hand, surprised when she willingly pushes out of Carlo’s arms and comes to me.

She glances into the living room and her whole demeanor changes. “Oh, hi.” She climbs out of my hold and walks over to Luna and Georgia. “Are you Antonia’s friends? I’m Jasmine, but you can call me Jazzy,” she introduces herself in a cheery voice.

I look to Carlo. We both have the same question.

What the hell? I have no idea what happened but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

How many situations has this kid been through for her to put on a brave, happy face in front of strangers?

I don’t know much about kids, but that can’t be normal or healthy.

“Hi! I’ve heard so much about you. So glad we finally get to meet you. I’m Luna.”

“I’m Georgia. It’s so great to finally meet you. You are just as cute as Antonia said you were.”

“Antonia said I was cute?” Jazzy asks.

“She sure did,” Luna answers.

“Guys, I totally forgot I have a thing I have to do… with Carlo. Can we pick up this study session in a few days?” I tell my friends. I need to get them out of here so I can find out what happened.

“Sure. I have to go meet Jasper anyway,” Georgia says, reading the room. She starts packing up her books.

“Who’s Jasper?” This comes from Carlo, who is still standing right behind me. His hand grips my hip.

“Her boyfriend of the month. School quarterback,” I tell him.

“Can I have a boyfriend?” Jazzy turns to Carlo with the question.

“Absolutely not,” he grunts.

“Boys are gross and have germs anyway,” I add.

“I don’t think that’s true. Does your boyfriend have germs?” Jazzy asks Georgia.

“Good question. I should probably ask him, huh?” Georgia laughs.

“I have no doubt he has more germs than any human should have,” I mutter under my breath.

I walk the girls to the elevator and wait for the doors to close them inside before turning back around.

“Hey, Jazz, how about you go get out of that dress, and I’ll pop it straight in the wash to try to save it from the dirt?” I suggest.

She runs off to her room.

“What happened?” I ask Carlo as soon as we’re alone.

“We need to lock down. You and Jasmine cannot leave this apartment,” he says, without answering my question.

“Why?”

He seems to consider his words for a moment. “We were attacked outside the Royal.”

“Attacked how?”

“Does it matter? We’re fine. I don’t want you to worry, Antonia. I just need you to stay here. Don’t leave unless it’s with me,” he says.

“Attacked how, Carlo?” I follow him into the bedroom.

“We were shot at.” He sighs.

My heart skips a beat, my stomach drops, and my body goes cold. “You were shot at…” I repeat. He was shot at. Jazzy was shot at. What the actual hell?

“Babe, we are fine. I’m going to find the bastard and show the whole fucking city what happens when they endanger the life of my daughter.”

“Jazzy, oh my god, Carlo! How is she acting like nothing happened?” I whisper to him.

“I don’t know.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on the floor. “She didn’t scream. Didn’t make a single sound.”

“What? How?” I remember the first time someone shot at my father’s car when I was inside. I screamed. It was bulletproof. Nothing got through. But I still thought I was going to die. I was thirteen.

“I don’t know,” he says. “She seems fine, though, right?”

No.

“I’m sure she will be,” I say instead of what I really think. Right now, he doesn’t need the added stress. “I think maybe she should talk to someone, a specialist. Just to make sure she’s okay?”

“Yeah, probably,” he says. But in our world, we don’t see therapists. We don’t trust outsiders with our deepest, darkest thoughts.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask him. “How can I help?”

“I’m going to get Lailani to come and sit with Jazzy. I need to go out,” he says.

He’s going after the shooter. I get it. It’s what he has to do. I don’t like it, though.

“I can watch her, you know,” I offer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I tell him. “We’ll have a girls’ day in.” I smile, even though I’m an anxious ball of energy inside. I walk over to him, reach up, and cup his cheeks. My lips press against his. I know the gesture takes us both by surprise. “Make sure you come home. Preferably without any holes in you.”

It’s then that I realize something… and it scares the absolute crap out of me. I can’t protect my heart from this man, because he already owns it. He always has.

I turn and walk out of the room, because I need space. I pick up my phone and see a message from my dad.

Dad:

We need to meet. Lunch tomorrow. Come alone.