Page 29 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
T he waitstaff starts handing out the first course. I went with the safe option of vegetable soup. When they place Carlo’s plate down in front of him, I look into the bowl. It’s not vegetable soup. It’s some kind of soup, but it’s a different color.
“What is that?” I ask the waiter.
“Chef said to make sure Mr. Bianchi got the carrot and coconut option,” the guy tells me.
“I didn’t order that.” I turn to Carlo. “We can swap.” I switch the bowls. “I know you don’t like coconut.”
Before he can reply, heavy footsteps sound through the foyer. I look to Carlo, who just looks at his watch. “Fuck,” he says under his breath.
“Pay up, fuckers. Ten G, each of you.” Louie points from Sammie to Carlo.
“What’d you bet on now?” Charlotte asks her husband.
“How long it’d take for Emmanuel to show up,” he says. And sure enough, that’s exactly who just walked through the door.
“Thanks for the invite,” Emmanuel directs to Carlo.
“I was hoping it got lost in the mail,” he grumbles.
“Tío E! Guess what? Guess what?” Jazzy bounces up and down in her seat.
“What, princesa?”
“I get to go to a new school, and Daddy bought us a new house. And I’m getting a little brother or sister,” she says loudly.
I choke on my glass of wine. “Not anytime soon,” I manage to get out through my fit of coughing.
“You good?” Carlo rubs a hand up and down my back.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“And I’m getting cousins from Uncle Louie,” Jazzy adds.
“Seems people have been busy,” Emmanuel comments while taking a seat in the only empty spot, right across from me and next to Evie.
I pick up my spoon and bring a mouthful of the soup to my lips. It’s not as bad as I thought. Carlo doesn’t like coconut, but I don’t like carrots. I’d just rather suffer through a horrible starter than make him do it.
“You moving back to town?” Sammie asks Emmanuel.
“I might.” Emmanuel shrugs. “If something keeps pulling me back here.” As he says this, he looks directly at Evie, who does her best to ignore him. Which isn’t an easy feat. Emmanuel has a presence about him that makes you want to look.
Not in an I’m attracted to him kind of way. More like, if I don’t look, I might miss when he picks up a knife to split my throat open kind of way.
“What’s in the soup, Antonia?” Emmanuel aims his glare at me.
“Vegetables,” I answer him.
“You don’t like vegetables?” he questions while eyeing my very-orange bowl.
“They brought up carrot and coconut for Carlo. I swapped.” I smile. “Carlo doesn’t like coconut.”
“I’m not that fond of vegetables.” Without waiting for me to respond, Emmanuel picks up my bowl and switches it with his.
“Ah, I’ve already eaten some of it,” I tell him.
“How much?”
“Just a little.” I shrug.
“It’s fine. I’m going to get myself a drink. Louie, show me where the kitchen is.” Emmanuel stands, taking the bowl of soup with him.
I look to Carlo, who is looking directly at his friends. “What’s going on?” I ask him.
“Nothing.” Carlo leans in and kisses the side of my forehead. “I’ll be right back.” He then stands and follows the guys out.
Sammie is the only male left at the table. “Any idea?” I press him.
“Nope, but this soup is real good, Antonia,” he tells me with an easy smile.
Something is definitely up with Emmanuel. I just don’t know what.
“Okay, I can’t be the only one thinking it,” Luna huffs.
“Thinking what?”
“That soup was poisoned,” she says. “Doesn’t anyone watch movies?”
“I ate it. I’m fine.” I shake my head. It wasn’t poisoned.
“Are you sure?” she asks me. “I think we should probably go to the doctor.”
Jazzy grabs my leg, her tiny fingers digging into my skin. I glance down at her. She looks pale. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Are you going to die? I don’t want another mama to go to heaven.” She starts crying.
I glare at Luna and then scoot my chair backwards. Picking Jazzy up and sitting her on my lap. “I’m fine. I’m not going to heaven anytime soon,” I say while wiping at her cheeks.
“Princesa, who made those tears?” Emmanuel’s voice is cold. I feel a shiver run down my spine.
“She’s fine,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t asking you. Jazzy, what happened?” he grunts.
“Is Antonia going to die, Tío E?” Jazzy blubbers out. “I don’t want her to die like my mama did. I can’t see her ever again.”
My heart is breaking for this little girl, who’s just been thrown into a whole family of strangers. I can’t imagine what an adjustment it is for her. “How about we go to the little ladies’ room and freshen up?” I ask her.
She nods her head. We both stand from the table, and Jazzy grips my hand as I lead her out of the dining room and into her bedroom, through to her bathroom.
“It’s okay to be sad or scared you know,” I tell her.
“Mama told me I should be brave. That I shouldn’t bother Daddy too much, and I shouldn’t be annoying to him,” she explains.
“I think your mama was worried about you, and she wanted you to be safe. Which you are. You are very safe here with your daddy, Jazzy, and nothing you do is going to be a bother. You just need to be yourself.” I pick up a washcloth, wet it with cold water, and wring it out before wiping at her little cheeks again.
“But he might get rid of me,” she whispers.
“That will never happen.”
“How do you know?” she asks me.
“Because I won’t ever let it. And your daddy loves you a lot. You know, if he had known where you were before, he would have come to visit you but he couldn’t find you,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says.
“You’re very brave. I wish I could be as brave as you are.”
“You wanna share my bravery, Antonia?”
“I do. Ready to go back out there?” I stand and offer Jazzy my hand.
“Yep.” She nods her head. “Thank you for being my stepmama and for not being evil.”
I laugh and guide her out of the bathroom. We find Carlo in her bedroom. “Everything okay?” He looks from me to Jazzy.
“Fine. Just girl things.” I smile at Jazzy.
“You two sharing secrets is going to be trouble.” He throws out an arm in our direction.
“Get used to it,” I tell him.
When we return to the dinner table, I find it empty of plates. “There was a problem in the kitchen. I ordered pizza. Should be here soon,” Carlo says.
I look around the room. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! What happened?”
“The cook had an accident, cut his finger and bled into the food,” he says. “But everyone loves pizza.”
“I love pizza!” Jazzy chimes in excitedly.
“Only monsters or aliens don’t like pizza, Jazz,” Sammie tells her.
The night wasn’t a total disaster. Everyone ate pizza, chatted, and laughed.
I was relieved once they all left, though.
Towards the end of the night, I started to feel a headache coming on.
I told Carlo I was going for a shower while he put Jazzy to bed.
I’ve been sitting in here for twenty minutes, my stomach turning.
I feel weak. Almost as if I try to stand, I won’t be able to do it.
I need to. I need to get up.
I reach over and turn off the tap, stopping the flow of the water. Then, holding on to the doorknob, I pull myself up on shaky legs. I manage to wrap a towel around myself and then fall to my knees by the toilet before the contents of my stomach decide to come back up.
The door opens but I don’t look at it. I can’t.
“Shit. Babe?” Carlo drops down next to me. His hands land on my face. “How long have you been feeling sick?”
“It just started,” I say before leaning back over the toilet.
“Fuck. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he tells me before yelling into his phone. “Louie, I need the doc. She’s sick, vomiting and burning up. Find out what the fuck was in that soup!”
“W-what?” I wipe my mouth with the towel that’s still wrapped around me.
“The soup. You had a spoonful. I should have known. I’m so sorry,” Carlo says.
“What?” I repeat.
“I think the soup was poisoned. But it’s going to be okay. The doc is on his way. You’re going to be okay,” he repeats.
“I don’t feel good, Carlo.” I lean on his body, unable to support my own weight.
“I’ve got you. I love you, Antonia. Please, just don’t ever give up. Don’t give up on me,” he whispers as he closes his arms around my waist, and I feel myself being lifted.
My eyes are heavy, and I give in to sleep.