Page 9 of Mafia Scars

The memory of Luc, a man I absolutely couldn’t be with, always brought tears to my eyes and made me feel so sad.

God, it was ridiculous. I’d been with my ex, Jordan, for years and never felt this way when I’d found him cheating on me. I saw him right in the act of it, and the off-handish way he never came after me even to apologize should have made me feel like nothing.

This was worse.

Maybe that was the reason for the dreams. The last time I’d felt this way, so very lost, was when I left my father.

That night, as I’d walked away from him and away from the life I’d grown up with, I literally became someone else. A blank slate with all my emotions suppressed.

I left that night, and I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Until this day, I never spoke of it, never looked up what happened after the headless body of Agent Peterson was found. Never looked back.

I came to LA, stayed in a guest house until I could wrap my head around being alone, and started afresh. The first thing I did was change my name. Then I arranged all the transfer details from Julliard to UCLA. I changed everything and practically wiped away the life I’d cherished. The lie of a life I’d led.

And now my father was dying. Luc said he was dying. Luc had said a lot, but there were a few things that stood out in my mind.

The first was the fact that my father had sent him here with some crazy promise of getting thefamily businessif he married me.

Jesus Christ, who did that in this day and age? Who even believed such a thing could be arranged? But fuck, getting me to fall for Luc had worked like a charm. Sometimes I felt like an idiot, and sometimes I just… I just missed him.

And this revelation that Dad was dying and that I was in danger was unreal.

From that I’d been able to piece things together. Piece everything together.

The truest thing that Dad had ever told me was that he loved me, and he would protect me until he died.

Yes, I was in danger, and the reason why he’d sent Luc here to me was because he must have been unable to come himself.

Dying. Sick.

I was very aware over the years that my father hadn’t simply allowed me to leave. He kept an eye on me through his trusted men. Spies, or whatever they were called. They kept me safe and made sure no one knew who I was. Even when I had to do anything official, it was done without question. The first was changing my name, then arranging to go to UCLA. That was the first time I’d felt nervous about being found out, but it was done. No questions. I’d slipped into being Amelia Taylor effortlessly.

As the years went by, I understood more and more about what my family business was. That part I’d looked up.

I was seventeen when I left home, and before my mother was killed, I’d barely seen any of my father’s friends. I’d heard names thrown around. Knew of one and two people, like Luc’s father, but that was all. It was because he’d kept my mother and me out of business. So far away that few people knew who we were.

The people who were after me went through a hell of a lot to find out who I was, and I expected any day now for something to happen.

They knew who I was, and right now, I wasn’t sure how a near month had passed and nothing had happened.

Was it Luc? Was that him? His doing? That’s what he said he was doing. Protecting me.

I believed him, but maybe my feelings made me blind to the possibility that all he wanted to do was escape.

I shuffled in the bed and sat up when my door pushed open. Gigi came in. Her hair was pink today and hung in big curls down her shoulders.

A small smile lit up her pretty face.

“I thought I heard you.” She sighed, pulling the lace of her dressing gown close. “How about some pancakes? I’ll even put that jelly I made on it.”

“I’d like that.” I returned the smile and swung my legs around to slip off the bed. “I’ll make hot chocolate.” I widened my smile and joined her, linking my arm with hers.

I was trying to be okay, and to be a friend.

Gigi was like family to me. We’d known each other for so long that she might as well be.

She was the first person I’d taken for a friend. This was back in college when we roomed together.

I remember that first day at UCLA when I met her. Her hair was bright red. I’d walked into our room to be told that she’d Feng shui-ed the whole room and hung a dream catcher over my bed. She also thought I’d appreciate the bigger bed. A sign of her willingness to put others’ comfort before hers.