Glass Ceilings (7 page)

O
CTOBER 2015

I remained rooted in shock while staring at her through the one-way mirror. It felt like I was seeing a ghost. The coffee I held in my hand was no longer appealing as bitterness rose in the back of my throat.

The FBI's mission is to help protect the public from dangerous threats facing our nation, international and domestic terrorists, cyber villains, mobsters, street gangs, child predators, serial killers, etc., etc. We're real-life super heroes, sans the capes and ability to fly.

There is one thing the FBI cannot help to protect…and that's a broken heart.

“You okay?” George asked when I still hadn't moved.

“Yeah.”

The door opened and Parks asked from the doorway, “Ready, sir?”

I walked to where he stood and handed him my cup commanding, “Get rid of this.” He took it and led me out of the room toward the door separating me from where she waited.

“Her name is Angela Cavello,” he offered with one hand on the doorknob.

“She's scared. I'll handle this alone. Don't interrupt us until I summon.”

“Yes, sir.” He opened the door, waiting curiously while I dragged in breath after breath. Once I stepped into the room, he shut it behind me.

At the sound of it clicking shut, Angela looked up and gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock, as tears immediately welled in her eyes and then rolled down both sides of her cheeks. Through a whisper that sounded more like an exhale, she said, “Nick.”

I stood across the room, taking her in, ignoring the urge to grab her and wrap her in my arms, ignoring the gut-wrenching desire that engulfed me to crush my lips against hers in a punishing kiss.

Ignoring my inner turmoil was by far the fucking hardest thing I ever had to do in my entire life. Yes, I was livid with her, but since it felt like I just took a bullet to the chest, it was more than obvious that I hadn't gotten over her.

She swallowed and quickly swiped away her tears with both hands. I waited a few minutes before walking to the empty chair that faced her.

I had no idea what to say, or rather how to avoid saying what I wanted to. Too much time had passed, almost two fucking years of hating her had gone by, and I should've been able to handle the situation indifferently. Yet, I knew as sure as I was an agent, it'd be hard for me to play the role I needed to…convincingly at least.

The tension that rolled off me caused the air in the room to become stifling. Without making eye contact, I dragged the chair out, threw the file on the table, and sat across from her. The metal table that separated us metaphorically became the past twenty-two months—one-dimensional, cold, hard.

In all fairness, it hadn't started that way. That New Year's Day with her was the best day of my life. That's what our relationship was reduced to, one day of bliss, followed by a few months of angst, followed by nothing…cold, hard, one-dimensional nothing.

In the grand scheme of my life, it should've been an inconsequential event that came and went. It shouldn't have consumed me as it had since I left Chicago almost two years ago.

“I was hoping I'd see you here,” she said desperately.

“You knew where I was?” I asked through clenched teeth. “All this time, you knew where you could find me?”

“Yes.” I felt sick at her admission. When she continued by adding, “I'm so sorry. I tried to…”

“Don't.” I barked with a raised hand. “I no longer care. It doesn't matter anymore.”

I lied. It did matter. I wanted to know why she called me that night, hell-bent on ending us before we even began. I wanted to know why the fuck she promised things that she clearly had no intention of following through with. My brain screamed with question after question as she sat across from me completely distraught and broken. The problem was, every question I had had little to do with why she was really there.

The five or so minutes that stood still since I'd first laid eyes on her began to dull my logic. Only then had it occurred to me why she was really there. The reason she sat across from me was because Ron Delarro was found dead, and she was the last person he called. It wasn't because she left me and changed her mind. It had nothing to do with me, or us.

So, instead of voicing any of my thoughts, I asked, “How are you connected to Ron Delarro?” Clarity hit. “Ron Delarro is your Ronnie?” She stared but didn't answer. “This will go a lot smoother and take a lot less time if you cooperate,” I said with pure contempt.

She cringed at the harshness in my tone, dragged in a shaky breath, and shook her head in disagreement. “He wasn't mine.”

“Yes, he was. He was the prick you were running from. And now that prick is dead. Why, Angela?”

She muttered something I couldn't hear.

“Louder please?”

“I don't know,” she repeated.

I aggressively flipped open the file and slammed my hand on the fact sheet, causing her to jump at the sound the table made as it rattled from my assault.

“This says he called you last…and between that call and today someone put a bullet through his head.”

Her chest rose and fell as her breathing became even more labored. I sat back in my chair, folded my arms, and waited for her to speak. Usually, silence was a very successful intimidation tactic. I was slowly losing control of myself, and I had to resort to proven methods I often used when reading people.

But reading her was proving to be difficult, because all I saw was the Angela I desperately wanted to touch in one way or another, or make her laugh to see her eyes crinkle adorably in the corners. The levity I remembered from the one and only night we were together was nowhere to be found. Even with tearstained cheeks, a face free of makeup, and complete and utter terror deep in her eyes, she was still stunning. So many times I've had to rely on my memory to envision her face clearly. I didn't have a picture of her and with time I forgot the small things that captured my attention the first night we met. Having her sitting before me proved that my memory of her beauty fell short.

She still sported the ponytail she'd favored back then. Her dark chestnut hair was pulled up high, revealing that smooth curve of her neck that I desperately wanted to attach my lips to. I had to stop staring at her gorgeous green eyes in the familiar way I had back then. The only difference in them were the dark circles beneath that dulled their sparkle just enough to tell me that she'd been through hell.

“In the past week he called me and texted me often with what he was going to do to me. I never answered them. It's all on my phone, you can check.”

I sat and tried to scrutinize her behavior, checking for signs that she was lying, basically trying to channel the prick FBI agent I'd become infamous for. With each second that ticked by, that prick routine became harder and harder to perform.

With the silence stretching between us like a thick toxic cloud, sure enough, after a few very long minutes had passed, she finally spoke. “He found me a week ago.”

“He found you where?”

“Here, in New York.”

“Where were you prior?”

“I was staying with a friend in Ohio.”

“For how long?”

“A year.”

“Why did you leave Ohio to come here?”

“To find you.”

J
ANUARY 2014

Two days had passed since Nick left Chicago. His phone call early that morning announced he'd arrived safely in New York, and couldn't wait for me to get there. “I love my place,” he said over the phone with enthusiasm. “It's small, but it has a great view of the Hudson and Jersey.”

“I can't wait to see it. I'm not sure what I'll be able to afford once there, but I guarantee the Upper West Side will not be in my price range.”

“Angela, you can stay with me until we find you a place you can afford. There's no rush.”

“I know. Thank you,” I said, meaning it. If circumstances had been different, and if we'd known each other longer than we had, I would absolutely consider moving in with him. It was just too soon.

We chatted on the phone for a very long time. He wanted to know how Jase was after the shit hit the fan with Mugs. I relayed what I knew, which wasn't much. “They are really mad at you,” I said unintentionally. Once it slipped out, I regretted telling him. The word “mad” was actually an understatement.

At The Dump, Mugs had been arrested, along with two of his bartenders, and Marcy was brought in for questioning. It was obvious when Nick disappeared that he was involved with their incarceration. Jase and Eve were livid with the circumstances…even more so when the realization hit them that they knew nothing about Nick.

“I'm not worried about them. They'll get over it. I'm worried about you.”

My heart squeezed at the sound of his voice. I could tell over the phone how much he desperately missed me. It equally warmed and saddened me. I missed him, too, more than I ever thought I would.

“I'm fine,” I said forcing my voice to be positive. “I've discovered that I'm a really great actress.”

“I bet. You even had me convinced you weren't falling in love with me.”

His comment stunned me silent. How could he possibly know, when I barely did? “You're crazy,” I responded flippantly.

“No, I'm not. You have. Do you want to know how I could tell?”

“Yes.” My response sounded winded.

A few seconds of silence passed before he added, “Angela, just thinking about the way your eyes darken right before I take your lips, and the color of your cheeks after I've kissed you, and even the way you grip my shirt wanting more once our lips part all tell me how much I affect you. I could easily tell you the signs of how you affect me over this call, but I'd much rather show you once you get here.”

My insides clenched from his words. I could feel my desire for him in every part of my body. “Nick, I miss you.”

“I know you do. I miss you, too.” I heard him drag in a breath before he asked, “Is he back yet?” I knew immediately which
he
Nick was referring to.

“No.”

“When is he due back?”

“The end of the week.”

“Angela, it's time to tell me about Ronnie.”

I considered what I would tell Nick. “We met in college. Nick, he wasn't always the way he is now. The Ronnie I broke up with was worlds apart from the Ronnie who swept me off my feet. In my so-called fairy tale I had met the prince first, only for him to turn into the frog. It had a lot to do with why I resisted you so much when we met. He was charming, handsome, wealthy, and considerate—making it easy to fall for him. Our time together in Jersey was perfection. He always treated me like a princess, one he held high on a pedestal…until recently. Do you want to know more?” I asked, assuming he didn't want to hear the details of why I had fallen in love with Ronnie.

“Yes,” he quickly said.

“With graduation approaching, and a job offer in Chicago, it was easy for him to convince me to move here with him. I had family here, and I could easily start my career where he would be. So I went. We found an apartment, he started his job, and I started working for Eve until something in my field came along. Life was fantastic.”

“And then?”

“And then as time passed, he turned into his father right before my eyes. Possessive, controlling, intimidating…he became a different person. I became consumed with leaving him. Every time I tried, I'd lose my nerve. After he left for Italy two weeks ago, I packed my things and moved into Eve's place.”

Nick cleared his throat, but otherwise remained silent. I could only imagine what was running through his mind.

“Was he ever physically abusive?” Nick asked quietly over the phone. This was killing him.

The look on Ronnie's face when I said it was over flashed in my mind, along with the fear I always felt when confronting him.

“We'll discuss it when I get home,” he said without so much as a backward glance.

“Ronnie, it's over!”

The tone of my voice captured his attention. He strode over to where I stood, and with a forceful grip on my throat, he shoved me hard against the wall, squeezing my flesh hard enough to hamper my breathing. He held my eyes to his and repeated his earlier declaration.

“It's not over until I say it's over.”

Our eyes locked; the familiar sense of fear caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention. The way he held me in his grip caused panic to take what little breath I had left. I was fighting for air, scratching at his wrist in an attempt to get him to loosen his hold. And then he did, and he left.

“Angela?” Nick impatiently asked again when I remained silent.

“He never laid a hand on me, but he always looked as if he could at any moment. It was the fear of that possibility that terrified me.” I paused, replaying the memory. “The night he left, he finally did. That's when I packed my bags and left him.”

“Motherfucker,” Nick mumbled over the phone.

“I haven't spoken to him since the day he left. I was going to wait until after he got back to end it, but after he…” I tried to swallow the large lump that lodged in my throat, hating that Ronnie could still make me feel such terror even when he wasn't near.

Nick's heaving breath was the only sound between us. “Baby?”

“I'm here.”

“I want you gone before he gets back. This isn't a request, Angela.”

“I will be.”

O
CTOBER 2015

“You said his last name was Delton,” I said through gritted teeth.

After she shared Ronnie's last name I'd scoured the database for information on him. Obviously, nothing came up. “You lied to me.”

“Of course not. I had no idea who he really was or who he was connected to until right before I left Ohio. Eve's brother was helping me.”

“
I
could have helped you.”

“I didn't know that at the time. I had no idea who you really were, Nick. You weren't exactly forthcoming with details of your life, either.” She took a deep breath, her lips lifting into a sad smile. “We really didn't know a thing about each other, did we, Nick?” she said out loud, but barely above a whisper.

She was right, we didn't.

She worked a swallow in her throat. “Can I get a glass of water, please?”

I raised my hand, and less than a minute later Parks walked in with her request, placing it on the table before her. She met my gaze as it occurred to her that every word she had spoken and every tear she had shed had been carefully watched. Silently she lifted the glass and took several sips with a hurt expression on her face.

Her eyes found mine watching her. “Let's back up,” I said, softening my voice. I stood and began pacing to channel my nerves. “How long have you been in New York?” My question had little to do with the case and everything to do with my curiosity.

She looked down at her entwined fingers as they lay on the metal table. “I got here in April.”

Her admission stopped me in my tracks. “You've been here for six months?”

“Yes.”

“So you ran away from Chicago to go to Ohio? Then you ran away from Ohio to go to New York? Do you see the trend here? Your brilliant answer to all your problems was to run away instead of dealing with the issue at hand?”

She cringed at my accusation. “I wasn't running. I was surviving until I could get back to you.”

“Bullshit!” I barked with both hands gripping the edge of the table. “I feel like we're getting nowhere, Angela!”

She unwaveringly met my glare. Confidence exuded from every cell in her body. When we discussed Ronnie or his murder, Angela would look terrified and skittish. The few times the conversation led to “us,” there wasn't a question in my mind that she was telling the truth. Hope mixed with desire with each little tidbit she threw my way as she insinuated that she still wanted me…that was until I clearly remembered the pain that she caused when she broke my heart.

The internal battle this woman was putting me through made me want to hit something.

As I stood pulsing with too many emotions, I realized I needed to control myself. After purposefully taking in a long, deep, calming breath I took my seat again and asked much more calmly, “Did he know you were in Ohio?”

“No. He only found me here in New York.”

“Why didn't you go to the police?”

The tears shimmered in her eyes again. She blinked quickly, trying to will them away but failing, when one by one they slowly rolled down her face. Avoiding my glare, she focused on the dull surface of the table while impatiently wiping them away with trembling fingers. “I believed him. By then I knew what he was capable of and I believed every word he said.”

Rage bubbled up in my chest. I'd never met him, but I've loathed him since the moment I heard of his existence. At the time I met Angela, I had no idea Ronnie was involved with the Mob. His fake credentials were good, real good. Not one red flag came through tying him to his Delarro surname or the Polittos. Had I known who he really was, there was no way I would have left her behind in Chicago.

Now, knowing his history and his role in the Politto family, I was glad the motherfucker was dead. I knew his type…money, power, and no conscience. Add in that the fucker had movie-star looks, and the combination made him an extremely dangerous man. They were all dangerous to the core, especially to those closest to them. Knowledge was power, and things might have gone differently had I known this truth then. I would not have given up on her so quickly.

A flash of remorse engulfed me. My mind couldn't help but wander to all the “what-ifs” had I known then what I know now.

“You should have told me all this back then,” I voiced out loud.

“I couldn't. You need to believe me.”

I watched her face distort with pain. My heart ached for her, for me, for all we lost. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to detach my emotions from my job responsibility.

My past involvement with Angela complicated this case. My supervising officer could possibly remove me based on conflict of interests. I had no idea if she was indeed innocent or not, but my gut told me that I needed to protect her in spite of my anger toward her.

J
ANUARY 2014

I was so excited that I truly couldn't contain it. Nick and I spent the last few days talking frequently. In between our calls, he'd sent sexy texts hinting at all he planned to do to me once I arrived. He'd sent pictures of his bed, his couch, and his shower with promises of christening each one of them. The sweet side of Nick came through when we'd chat late at night and he'd tell me places he wanted to take me to. My heart ached for him, my body as well. I couldn't wait to be reunited and to be wrapped in his arms.

The day before my flight I taped up the last box containing my personal belongings. I didn't have much I wanted to take with me. Most of my things I was leaving behind, wanting nothing to remind me of the past few years I'd wasted in Chicago. But it was funny how life worked. Those years led me to Nick, and I'd never regret a minute of them now that I had him.

Eve was going to mail the few boxes I had once I got to New York. I told her I'd be staying with a friend until I found my own place, and there wasn't a rush to send my stuff.

Nick said the case against Mugs was progressing as planned, and it wouldn't be long before we could tell Eve and Jase the truth about us.

Although I still felt guilty lying to her, part of me loved having this secret, almost making our relationship sacred and treasured. I knew it was silly, but having just come out of a horrible one, it was a joy to experience all the newness and flirting that comes with new love without sharing it with anyone else.

When my cell rang, I darted to answer it hoping it was Nick. Disappointed when Eve's number flashed across the screen, I answered, “Yes, I'm packed. Stop bothering me.”

“Ang.” Her voice sounded pained and I immediately knew something was wrong.

“Eve, are you okay?”

“My dad has been in an accident. He's in critical condition at Northwestern.”

“I'm on my way.”

The drive to the hospital went by in a blur. My uncle Carmine was like a second father to me. He was the core of his family, and all who knew him adored him. This would cause a huge strain on them and it hurt my heart knowing they'd forever be changed if something were to happen to him.

I wasn't prepared to see how injured he was. My aunt Dora silently sobbed while holding his limp hand. My cousin Luca looked like he was in shock. He sat beside his dad's bed. Uncle Carmine was lying lifelessly while machines kept him alive.

Eve was the first to see me, bolting into my arms as she bawled into my shoulder. “Shh, he's in the right place to heal.”

“They had to revive him twice already. His heart isn't strong enough.”

I had no words of comfort or encouragement. I truly felt uncertainty bouncing around the room in an unspoken, desperate way, and there wasn't a thing I could say to help my family feel comforted.

I wasn't leaving for New York, and of course Nick completely understood. Through my sobs, he soothed me as best he could over the phone, encouraging me to be strong for Eve and my family. He said he wished he could be there physically, but no matter what he was with me in spirit.

I spent the next few days after my uncle's accident helping Eve however I could, by manning the store and ensuring they all had what they needed while they sat vigil.

My parents flew out immediately, stayed a few days until they needed to get back to their lives in Jersey. We kept hope that with all the love that surrounded Uncle Carmine, it would pull him out of his coma and bring him back to us. But the pessimist in me worried he wasn't going to make it through.

Of course, Ronnie had returned and made my life a living hell in the process. He now knew I'd left him, moved in with Eve, and had no intentions of going back. Over the course of two weeks, he tormented me with calls and surprise appearances demanding that I come back to him. The only thing stopping him from physically dragging me back was all the traveling he was suddenly doing. I had no idea if it was for work or personal, but I was grateful he wasn't in Chicago a whole lot.

While closing the boutique one night, the bell above the door rang, announcing a customer had walked in. Without looking up from my task, I said, “We're closing…” My words halted the minute I saw who came into the store.

“Hello, Ang,” Ronnie said sarcastically.

“You're back.” He followed my gaze to the camera mounted above the front door, before smiling at me in his most charming way. A passerby would see nothing more than a gorgeous man standing before me. In the depths of his eyes, I could see all the menacing things he was completely capable of.

“Yes, I'm back. How's Uncle Carmine?”

“The same.”

“I guess that's good news.” He walked closer, picking up a bracelet near the register and examining it with a smile. “My father was so upset when he heard.”

“Your father? Your father knows my uncle?”

“Oh, they go way back. I never told you that?”

“No.” I felt as if his hand punched through my chest and was squeezing my heart.

He moved around the counter, standing beside me before tucking my hair behind my ear. “Oh yes, they're old acquaintances. They lost touch recently, but Dad was always so happy that your uncle became so financially successful. Your cousins must be devastated. Please keep me posted on his progress. He's definitely in our prayers, and I'm sure the Cavellos could use all the positive thoughts they can get right now.”

The thinly veiled threat behind his words and the feeling of his fingers lingering on my lobe made me sick to my stomach. He replaced the bracelet on the counter with puckered brows as he feigned concern.

“Such a horrible accident, it's a miracle he even survived it, don't you think?”

An intense chill ran through my body when he stared into my eyes.

“Get out.” I slipped my hand beneath the counter, hovering my finger over the alarm. He watched the motion my hand made with a condescending smirk.

“I need to leave town again. I'll see you when I get back, no?”

He brought his lips closer to mine and I jolted back, avoiding the contact. “Aw, Ang, I don't get a goodbye kiss?”

“What do you want, Ronnie? You can have anyone you want, why me?”

“Because you're mine.”

“Not anymore. Get out!”

He grabbed my head and crashed his lips against mine. My fingers dug into his wrists as I struggled in vain, helpless against his strength, until he chose to finally release me. “I'll see you when I get back,” he whispered against my lips, and then stalked out of the store without a backward glance.

I ran to the door and locked it as my body convulsed with violent tremors. Bile rose so quickly I had to sprint to the bathroom, barely making it before the contents of my stomach emptied into the toilet.