I’m shaking as I help Elio into his puffer jacket, gloves, and scarf. I think I’ve blown it. It’s quite possible I’m about to be fired, and I wouldn’t blame Cristian if he does. I’m ashamed Elio was witness to that. I should have bitten my tongue and not retaliated, but no one gets to insult my mother and get away with it. “Are you okay, my little prince?” I ask, brushing hair back off his face.
“I’m awesome.” He flashes me a toothy grin, and I’m reminded of how forgiving children are. “This is the best day ever! I love my daddy so, so much.” His eyes sparkle with blatant joy and love for his father, and memories of similar outings with my mom resurrect in my mind, which only adds to my pain and current anxiety.
Panic swirls in my gut as I zip Elio’s jacket up and move on to his feet. Mom is dead if I lose this job, and I’m as good as dead too if that happens. Sweat rolls down my back, and it’s an effort to keep a smile on my face as Elio regales me with tales of previous bike rides and basketball games while I help him into his boots.
“Ready, bud?” Cristian says from behind me, and my spine automatically stiffens. I finish lacing his boots and straighten up.
“We’re ready, ready, ready!” Elio squeals, jumping up and down.
The resilience of kids is remarkable. “Could I just talk to you for a second?” I ask in a hushed voice, forcing my gaze to hold Cristian’s.
He stares at me for a few beats before slowly nodding. “Grab your coat while I take Elio to Umberto and Clint. They can bring the bikes around the front of the building.”
I nod and take a step forward. “Sloane.” Elio grips my hand, and I look down at him. “You’re not going to leave me too, are you?”
Oh my god. I crouch down in front of him and kiss his soft cheek. “I hope not,” I quietly say, not wanting to lie to the child.
“Sloane will see you downstairs in a few minutes,” Cristian says.
“Okay.” He smiles a happy smile, showcasing the gap in his lower teeth.
Cristian clutches his hand and nods at me. I walk toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“Hurry up!” Elio shouts after me. “You don’t want to be Slowpoke Sloane again!”
I smile despite my fear, wiggling my fingers at him as I back up out of the room.
I’m on autopilot as I head to my bedroom and into the walk-in closet. My measly clothes barely fill one-fifth of the available space, and it’s as pathetic as I am. I pull my black woolen coat off the hanger and switch out my sneakers for boots. As I walk back to the kitchen, I’m devising all kinds of reasons in my head to present to Cristian not to fire me. Yet when I’m confronted with his stern figure, all my calculated composure evaporates, and I burst out crying.
I stand before my new boss like a wet noodle, hugging my arms around my body as tears stream down my face. “I’m so sorry, Cristian,” I say over sobs. “That should never have happened. I hate that it upset Elio.”
“Hey, hey.” Cristian walks toward me, hesitating for a second before he gently pulls me into his arms. “Don’t cry, Sloane.”
“Please don’t fire me.” I beseech him with my eyes, and I’m not opposed to begging on my hands and knees. “If I’d known Elio was there, I swear I wouldn’t have snapped back at her. It’s not an excuse, but she’d been winding me up all morning. Nothing I did was right, and then she insulted my mother, and…” A sob rips from my mouth, and I can do nothing to stop the meltdown. It’s been a long time coming, and while now is not the time to fall apart, I can’t halt it.
“Sloane. Shush.” Cristian presses my head to his chest and runs his hand up and down my back. “Calm down, sweetheart. You’re shaking all over.”
“I can’t lose this job. I need it so badly.”
“I know you do.”
I go rigid in his arms. Surely, that doesn’t mean…
“I know about your mother and the debts,” he adds in a soothing voice. “I’m so sorry you lost her like that, and I can’t begin to imagine how hard it’s been to grieve and lose your home and have all these financial commitments hanging over your head.”
Whoever Pablo hired to create my fake identity and backstory has really done a stellar job. “You must think I’m pathetic,” I mumble against his chest, snuggling in closer. I feel safe in his arms, and I need to cling to that right now. Cristian smells so good, and he’s so warm and solid and strong. I might be imagining it, but his arms seem to hold me tighter.
“I think you’re a young woman who’s had far too much to deal with, and you’re doing the best you can.”
I peer up at him, instantly ensnared by his mesmerizing emerald eyes. I haven’t known the man long, but he has a way of looking at me that is wholly intense and all-consuming. I could easily get addicted to the way it makes me feel. “I promise I will always put Elio first, and nothing like that will happen again. Please don’t fire me, Cristian. Give me a second chance, and you won’t regret it.”
“I’m not firing you, Sloane.”
The second the words leave his lips, my legs try to go out from under me. I collapse against him, and he sways a little as he adjusts his hold on me to keep me upright. “Whoa, careful there, beautiful.”
My eyes pop wide at the same time his do. I don’t think he meant to say that.
“Can you stand?” he says, his deep, gruff voice doing funny things to my insides.
“Yes. Of course.” I shuck out of his arms the same time he steps back, examining me carefully before he fully lets me go. I instantly miss the safety of his arm, though it’s only an illusion. But it’s one I enjoyed for the brief interlude I had it. “I’m sorry for acting so unprofessional. I promise I’m not normally like this.”
“Sit down for a bit.” He gestures toward one of the stools. I pull myself up onto it as he retrieves a few bottles of water from the refrigerator. He hands one to me. “If you’re not feeling up to an outing, I can take Elio myself.”
Our fingers brush as I accept the bottle from him, igniting delicious tremors across my skin. I’ve never had such a strong, visceral reaction to any man before, and it scares me a little. “No, I’m fine.” I swipe at the moisture under my eyes, embarrassed and relieved in equal measure. “I’m sorry for falling apart like that, and I’m really, really sorry about arguing with Isa in front of Elio. It’s unforgivable.”
“Nothing like that can happen again.” He leans back against the refrigerator.
“It won’t. I swear.”
“You won’t have to worry about Isa. It’s in everyone’s best interests that she leaves now. She will be here on Saturdays to collect Elio, but that’s it.”
“I don’t want to deprive Elio of his aunt. He clearly loves her a lot. I don’t know why she dislikes me so much, but I will hold my tongue for Elio’s sake if you want to change your mind.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it wouldn’t work, and maybe a clean break is better anyway. Kids bounce back quickly.”
“They do, but she’s important in his life, and if he needs her, I’m okay with that.” I have learned a big lesson today. Who cares what that snotty bitch thinks? Let her insult me, insult my mother, all she likes. She doesn’t matter. Protecting Mom and ensuring we both get out of this alive is the priority. I shouldn’t have let some jealous cow get to me.
“It’s a hard adjustment for Isa too. She feels threatened by you, but it’s no excuse for the way she spoke to you. I’m sorry for the hurt it caused.”
“You don’t need to apologize for her, and I guess I need to develop thicker skin.”
“You’re still so young. It’ll come in time.”
“I’m not that young,” I protest because the last thing I need is him thinking I’m a weak little girl. I need him to see me as a desirable woman because my only chance at getting the intel Pablo wants is getting close to this man. “Everything I’ve endured this past year has aged me beyond my years.”
“It wasn’t an insult.” He glances at his watch. “We should go. I’m betting Elio is driving Umberto and Clint insane by now.”
When we reach Central Park, we climb out of the blacked-out SUV while the bodyguards retrieve the bicycles from the roof. The three of us depart on one of the cycle routes, with Umberto and Clint jogging on the sidewalk behind us. It’s a brisk January day, and biting-cold wind slices across my face as we travel at a leisurely pace.
The park is more subdued this time of year. No light-pink blossoms adorn the cherry trees, and I miss the lavender-pink buds of the Eastern redbuds in full bloom. But there’s something about winter with the crisp chill in the air, the trees bare of leaves—except for the evergreens—and the abundance of trampled foliage covering the sidewalks and pathways that soothes me. Lingering traces of snow cling to the uppermost branches of the trees we pass by, painting a pretty picture.
The frigid wind on my face reminds me I’m alive, and right now, there’s a lot to be said for that. So, I try to live in the moment and not dwell on the terrible predicament Mom and I are in. Maybe that makes me a selfish daughter, but I’m clinging to my sanity by my fingernails right now.
After the bicycles are packed away, we get coffees from a cart and a hot chocolate for Elio and sit on a bench to drink them. The bodyguards make zero attempt to blend in, leaning against the trunks of trees and scanning every passerby as if they’re a threat. It’s comforting. I wonder where Diego and Alvaro are. I’m sure they’re lurking somewhere close by, as the cartel cell in my jeans pocket would have notified them I’m on the move.
If I didn’t think Mom would be punished for it, I’d consider drawing attention to them in the hopes Cristian’s men might beat the shit out of the two assholes. That’s something I’d gladly root for.
“Your nose is all red, Slowpoke Sloane,” Elio says, grinning that toothless grin.
“Look in the mirror, little dude.” I boop him lightly on the nose. “I’m gonna start calling you Rudolph.”
Elio bursts into song, and Cristian and I join in, garnering our fair share of curious looks from passersby.
“Christmas was last month,” some know-it-all spotty-faced teenager shouts as he whizzes past on a skateboard.
“Don’t care!” Elio shouts back, poking his tongue out. “What a grinch,” he mutters under his breath when the teen is out of sight.
My lips twitch at the corners, and Cristian chuckles. I shiver as a gust of wind whistles past us, lifting stray strands of hair from my ponytail.
“You’re cold.” Cristian’s gaze roams quickly over me. “That coat isn’t warm enough, and you need a hat and gloves.”
“I’m fine.” I pull the collar of my coat up, shielding my neck.
“We can play at the indoor court, Daddy.” Elio is sporting a hot chocolate mustache, and I didn’t think the kid could be any cuter, but he is. “I don’t want Sloane to freeze.”
“I won’t freeze.” Removing a wipe from my purse, I gently clean his mouth. “Besides, running around will heat me up. Hope you’re ready to go up against the champ,” I tease.
“Nuh-uh.” Elio shakes his head repeatedly. “No one beats my daddy. He’s The Big Apple basketball champ.”
Cristian coughs. “Pretty sure that crown belongs to Brunson or one of the other Knicks guys, but I’ll take the praise where I can get it.” He smiles adoringly at his son.
Elio thrusts his empty cup at me before crawling into his daddy’s lap. “I want to see the Knicks play again.”
“I’ll check out tickets.” Cristian snuggles his son and looks at me. “Have you ever been to The Garden to catch a game?”
I nod. “I caught a few games with my team when I was in high school. Those were fun times.”
“I’ll get you a ticket if you’d like to join us? A few of my buddies usually come too.”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
“Can we go shoot hoops now?” Elio hops up, holding his dad’s hand and trying to drag him to his feet.
“I wish I had a tenth of his energy,” I joke as I stand.
“You and me both,” Cristian says over a grin, leaning down and scooping his son up and onto his shoulder. “Let’s go put Sloane through her paces.”
