Page 132 of Be With Me
“I don’t need to try. I’ve already found it. You’re not the monster that you think you are.”
“You don’t fucking know me,” he snarled, a trapped-animal desperation in his eyes. “That’s the problem. If you did, you’d know I’m capable of anything.”
I tilted my chin up. “What else do I need to know?”
"Jesus, Mia." He stared at me for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working. Then, suddenly, he turned and sank down onto the edge of the bed.
Silence again, thick and heavy. I watched him wage some internal war with himself, his fingers curling into fists, his knuckles turning white.
Finally, he spoke, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it. "The summer I turned eighteen, a few months before I was supposed to be made, my mother came up with a plan…”
CHAPTER41
ROM
The summer I turned eighteen, a few months before I was supposed to be made, my mother came up with a plan for how to compromise the new police chief.
She called me into her study the morning of a party she was hosting at the penthouse.
It was early, and I’d barely woken up, but the penthouse was already buzzing with activity. Decorators and caterers were coming in and out every five minutes, their voices carrying through the hallways. I locked my bedroom door before I went to talk to her. I didn’t want someone snooping through my shit.
Cos and Alessio had both moved out, and I was counting down the days until I could do the same. It wasn’t that living with my parents was horrible—I barely saw either of them—but moving out meant something. A rite of passage. That, along with getting made, would mean I was officially a man.
Mom stood by the window, looking out at Central Park, a serene smile curving her lips.
When she turned to face me, the smile slowly melted away.
“Caterina told Aunt Paolina you kissed one of her friends at the barbecue last week.”
Heat blasted across my cheeks. Fucking Cat. The next time she called me for a ride home from one of her Brooklyn raves, I’d tell her to hitchhike.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked, feeling like a total tool. Why the fuck would I be in trouble for kissing a girl? I was eighteen. By the time Cosimo was my age, he’d already lost his virginity. And Les—he didn’t talk about that kind of thing, but I had a hunch he’d done it with one of the cleaning girls before he moved out.
I could have done it by now too, if I'd wanted to. But I hadn’t.
Because deep down, I had this stupid idea that I’d wait. That I’d save it for someone who actually mattered.
Of course, I’d rather take a kick to the balls than ever admit that to anyone. It made me sound like a pussy.
Mom shook her head, her tone eerily calm. “You’re not in trouble. But tonight, I need you to kiss someone else.”
I frowned. “What?”
She moved to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a photograph. She slid it across the polished wood toward me.
I hesitated before picking it up, unease sliding down my back. The woman in the picture was old enough to be one of Mom’s friends, maybe even older. Her heavily made-up face did nothing to soften the deep lines across her forehead, and her too-bright smile reminded me of the overeager chaperones at school dances.
“You want me to kiss her?” I asked, incredulous.
Mom nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She’s the police chief’s wife,” Mom explained, crossing her arms. “Alana taught at a high school until a few years ago, then she was quietly let go. Rumor has it she was involved with a student.” A pause. “Of course, there’s no evidence of that. Or if there was, it’s been buried.”
I stared at her, waiting for the punch line that never came. She was serious.
“If she likes younger men, Romolo,” Mom added, “she’ll like you.”
