Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(77)
That did sound good. With effort, I took my hands off of him and settled back into my seat. I lay slightly on my side, as did Angelo, and for a while we just lay there staring at each other. Then a thought popped into my head that needed to be asked out loud.
“When Vee got hurt,” I whispered, curiosity winning out, “you were so angry at me. You thought it was my fault because of the fake baby.”
Angelo winced. “I’m sorry, Bella. That was wrong of me. It was my own guilt talking; I was so convinced she’d been hurt because of my own selfish, impulsive desire to keep you in my life. I was so wrong to try and share that blame with you.”
“Understandable, though,” I commented. “But that day, and a few times after, you’ve called Vee the same thing you call me: amore mio.”
He nodded. “My love.”
I remembered the translation from when we were younger. “Vee…”
“Is my wife,” he whispered, his gaze steady and unflinching. “She’s also the closest thing I have to a best friend and the only person I have ever shared my true self with… since leaving you and Jace. She and I do not share a romantic love, not like how I feel for you, Bella, but we still love each other deeply.” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “Does that worry you?”
Did it? I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. But… “I don’t think so. I can see the connection between you two, the trust and understanding. I’m jealous,” I admitted, wrinkling my nose, “but only because she got all those years that I missed out on. I get it, though. I really like her too.”
Angelo stroked the backs of his fingers down the side of my face in a loving gesture. “She may have those years, Bella, but you have my heart. Always have, always will.”
thirty-four
ANGELO
Billie Bellerose was going to be the death of me. When news of my untimely demise reached my father, he’d be told that I died of extreme sexual frustration. Of my own making, too. What the fuck I’d been thinking, getting her off like that on the plane, I had no clue. All I’d achieved was a boner so hard and unrelenting that I’d needed to slip into the bathroom after she fell asleep and rub one out.
When we disembarked in Berlin, Grayson glared daggers at me, and I just smirked back. Then sucked my fingers again. He’d seen what had happened in the dark of the plane, watching with burning jealousy as she came apart quietly on my hand. Something had shifted between them since he’d been shot, though, and I had no doubt he’d be back in her bed and between her thighs in no time.
It still didn’t stop me from feeling smug as fuck now, while her arm wrapped around my waist and I kissed her hair as we crossed the private airstrip’s tarmac.
Rhett, sullen asshole that he was, rubbed sleep from his eyes, then frowned at me. Then at Billie. Then grabbed her hand and tugged her swiftly out of my embrace and into his own. Slick fucker.
Billie’s laugh filled the night, and I extended my middle finger to Rhett, who returned it with one of his own. Sharing her with anyone other than Jace would really take some getting used to, but it helped that Rhett and Grayson seemed to be decent enough dudes. They worshiped her, and that counted for a lot.
My phone buzzed while we waited for Hannah to sort out all our customs paperwork, and I sighed when I saw the caller ID. It was a call I’d been waiting on, but I still didn’t really want to take it. The day I could cut my father out of my life for good couldn’t come soon enough.
I quickly showed the screen to Jace before stepping away from the group to answer the call.
“Angelo!” The snap of my name was familiar. I’d heard it every day of my life since I was old enough to remember life.
“Father,” I replied formally.
“Why haven’t you checked in?”
Good question. Maybe because I don’t trust you, you old fuck. “It’s been hectic. The tour, that is. Trying to keep up with new songs and learn how these tours work is taking all of my time and energy. But rest assured, Ricci assets are in safe hands. Everything is running smoothly.”
There was an extended pause. “What are you referring to, figlio?”
“The shows of course,” I replied with the same pause. “Were you referring to something else?”
The reason for this phone call was probably related to the missing Ricci men, the ones Grayson had dealt with in what had been, no doubt, a bloody and fitting end. Giovanni was checking in on his assets. The ones that mattered to him anyway. He didn’t give a fuck about the success of the band and would, I was certain, try to destroy it when its usefulness had expired.
“Father?” I pressed. “Are there other jobs happening over here? I mean, I assumed so since you were fairly easy to convince that I should be part of the tour. I know you’ll make money from this, but you always have a concurrent plan. If you want me to keep an eye on it, you need to let me in on the job.”
“No, no, no, son. I want you to live your dream for a short time before returning to take over your rightful place as head of this family.” He said all of this in a rush, putting on the accent of his cheerful Italian persona. That was a dangerous tone from him, but I was too experienced with his shit to ever fall for the con. At his nicest, he destroyed you the worst.
It also told me that he was a hundred percent using this tour to run astronomically high levels of drugs through Bellerose, all the while setting them up to take the fall should anyone become aware of it. Or not aware. Knowing Giovanni, he probably planned to take them down this way no matter what.